Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eren hadn't been his usual self lately. Armin could tell. How could he not?

Ever since they received their honorary medals at the ceremony from the Queen, Eren had been different. He seemed… distant, as if something had been plaguing his mind. Like he saw something that moment that they couldn't.

No. It wasn't just since the ceremony; something had been off before. From the moment they came back from Shiganshina, something had been going on with Eren. His father's memories had weighed on him. There was no doubt about it.

They'd learned the titan Eren held was called the Attack Titan. Armin had perked up at the name once Eren told them.

The memories inherited through the Attack Titan had left Eren with nightmares as they spent their nights in the cell. Learning—no, seeing the history of their world had affected him a lot. But he shared his pains with them, talking to both Armin and Mikasa about what he saw in his father's memories. He wasn't pushing them away. He was suffering, yes, but he was still there. Still Eren.

But that moment during the ceremony seemed to have triggered something else.

Armin noticed. He still remembered the way Eren suddenly froze. How his eyes had become haunted. The way he looked at Historia’s hand after he'd kissed it—too caught up to notice he was still holding onto it.

That was the moment everything shifted.

Armin was sure Eren saw something that day. The look on his face was enough for him to tell.

That's when Eren became something else.

Someone else.

It hadn't gone away either.

If anything, he'd became more distant—not his usual self. As if he were slowly pushing everyone away.

At meal times, he 'd leave as soon as he'd finished eating. Training was done alone. Jean's taunting was ignored. He didn't laugh when Connie and Sasha tried to joke with him. And Mikasa? He turned away from her anytime she showed her concern, just like before.

She'd noticed too.

The way Eren had grown quieter. Detached almost. How the spark in his eyes had dulled until there was almost nothing left.

Armin kept hoping it was just something temporary. That Eren would snap out of it and get back to his usual self.

It didn't get better. If anything, it got worse.

Armin saw it happening, yet he hadn't said a thing. Done nothing to stop it. Pretended everything was fine.

He thought he could be asking Mikasa for advice—she was his family, after all. But he decided against that too.

Sometimes when Eren turned them away again, she wore a look that felt all too familiar to Armin.

Because he wore it too.

She was just as lost as him.

So it became easier to pretend to not notice. To act as if nothing were wrong.

He felt guilty often, for being a friend who turned a blind eye when he should've been there for Eren.

Guilty for being brought back to life at the expense of Commander Erwin and a former comrade turned traitor.

Guilty of being one of the few to return, now with a power wasted on someone like him.

Guilty of being the reason his friends got confined. The ones who fought for him to be revived because they believed in him so badly.

Yet now he couldn't even return the favour to Eren—unable to reach out while his friend slowly fell apart.

Once again, he was a failure in comparison to Eren and Mikasa.

What a worthless friend he was.

It gnawed at him.

He tried to convince himself there wasn't much he could do. Not when Eren avoided everyone. Pushed them away. Even him.

Apparently the only favor he was able to return was ignoring Eren right back.

He thought a lot about Eren. About whatever must be going on inside his head. But he never got anywhere.

He had hunches and theories he couldn't—no, didn't dare to bring up to Eren directly.

Perhaps Eren just needed some space.

Perhaps it was something he couldn't talk about. Didn't want to talk about.

But Armin wouldn't know unless he did talk to Eren.

He had a feeling… but felt like he shouldn't pry. Like it was too delicate, and the simplest trigger could cause it all to shatter.

He didn't know how to handle it.

If he just knew where to start the conversation, he would. But he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't dare to.

Coward.

He was supposed to be one for talking. The one who was better at reading the situation, adapt, and act accordingly. And yet he felt like he had been failing at the one thing he was supposed to be good at.

Failure.

He'd always been the one who knew how to get through to Eren. All the things that he could usually do just fine—better than anyone else even— suddenly he couldn't.

Because he was too busy feeling sorry for himself.

He really hated himself for it.

Pathetic.

So he talked to Annie instead.

Still trapped in a crystal. He wasn't even sure if she was conscious to hear him, let alone answer.

Perhaps it was better that she couldn't talk back. That way he could avoid any judgment of his poor behavior as a friend.

Each time he entered the dungeon she was held in, the torchlit halls reminded him of the times he'd visit Eren in jail. How many times had he been denied to sleep in his own room? Armin hadn't kept count, but it saddened him to think of all the times his friend had been restrained. It made him realize, only now, just how important freedom was to Eren.

And how often it had been taken away from him back then.

But with the uncertainty that was Eren Yeager, Armin couldn't entirely blame the higher-ups either.

He sat down in front of the crystal and stayed quiet for a while, letting these thoughts run wild before he opened his mouth. Despite everything, he still felt judged.

'I always thought I knew Eren better than anyone else,' Armin said at last. To Annie, or to himself. He didn't know. It was like he was trying to convince himself.

He looked down at the seashell in his hands. The flame from the torches made it appear orange in color. It was supposed to signify their dream coming true, but now it was just a reminder of how tainted it had become. Eren never even paid attention to it. Armin didn't blame him.

'I thought he had the same dream as me." Armin traced the edge of the shell with his thumb, eyes fixed on it. "But… I must've been wrong.'

Annie, as expected, said nothing.

He furrowed his brows. 'I was so caught up in my own dreams I never acknowledged his,' he said, angry at himself. 'I've been an awful friend.'

He finally looked up at Annie, almost hoping for a response he knew would never come. Inside her crystal, she was completely still and untouched by time. She almost seemed peaceful.

With a sigh, Armin continued. 'I'm worried I've screwed up whatever we had. Not just that… I'm worried about Eren himself. He's not just being distant to me, it's something else, it's— ' he stopped himself. He didn't know what it was.

'Something changed at the ceremony, and I'm… scared.'

The odd expression painting Eren's face while he received their medals was imprinted into Armin's memory.

'He saw something back then. He knows something we don't.'

And Eren wasn't the only one who knew something.

'Armin, you tag along with me.' Hange ordered.

Rod Reiss' titan transformation had ravaged most of the estate. Hange wanted to investigate the area as soon as they could.

'The Reiss family must have had more knowledge than we know of; search their estate to find anything you can. Any serum like the ones Eren talked about. There must be more!'

Hange was excited. Too excited to rest and recover from their shoulder injury they'd acquired the night before.

Once they reached their destination, they split up. Hange, with Moblit at her side, went to search the family home, while Armin was left to investigate the chapel alone.

He stepped inside, observing what remained of the interior.

It seemed to be just an ordinary chapel, despite its ruined state. Armin hesitated, unsure where to start. They'd already been here once and not found much of interest. If there had been anything useful, surely they would have discovered it already.

He wandered through the wreckage, trying to not trip over the debris scattered about. To no avail.

His foot caught on something, and he stumbled, crashing against a bench—hard enough to shove it out of place. Pain shot through his side, and he let out a soft groan as he rolled down onto the ground with a dull thud.

Blinking, his eyes fell upon a loose floorboard beneath the bench. It looked different from the others.

Carefully, he pushed himself to his feet and moved closer for a better look. Kneeling, he pried open the floorboard and found a weathered-looking box. He set the plank aside and lifted the box into his lap.

It had a lock.

He tugged at it trying to unlock it. The rusty clasp was fragile and broke off with little effort.

Inside were several books. All looking rather aged—like they had been hidden away in this box for decades. Odd titles marked on each, mostly relating to titan it seemed. Pure titan, Titan Serum, Female, Armoured. Armin's brow furrowed as he flipped through them.

He picked up one of the books with Attack written on the cover—intrigued by its vague title—and skimmed through it, page by page. Taking in its contents, his eyes went wide. He continued, reading about the abilities of a titan called the Attack Titan.

He knew he had to bring his findings to Hange as soon as possible.

And yet… something inside him hesitated.

He put the other ones back in the box. Without thinking, he put the Attack book in his coat.

He wasn't sure why. It was completely out of character for him to withhold such precious information. After all, this book could be vital to humanity.

But for some reason, he felt like it was something better kept to himself.

Hange would be happy with his findings either way.

Armin let a sigh slip as he shook his head.

'What am I even doing?' he murmured to himself.

Glancing back at the crystal, he said in a soft voice, 'I want to talk to him, yet here I am talking to you, Annie—and you don't even talk back.'

Slowly stretching his legs, he rose to his feet, sliding the seashell back into his pocket as he made his way out the dungeon.

Armin couldn't sleep.

Neither could Eren, apparently. Armin was a light sleeper; the sound of Eren tossing and turning, the ruffling of his sheets kept him alert.

Unable to focus on anything else, Armin wondered if it were nightmares. It had been months since Eren's restlessness at night had started.

Unsure of what to do, Armin just watched. Some nights it seemed like simple insomnia—barely a sound from Eren. But whenever Armin turned toward him, he could see Eren was awake. Too deep in his thoughts, he never seemed to notice Armin's worried stares.

Other nights were louder. Soft and frightened moans would slip out of Eren, and Armin knew they were nightmares. Intense ones, judging by the way he'd mumble in his sleep, though the words were mostly unintelligible. What he dreamt of, Armin could only ponder.

Whenever he dared to ask Eren if he was okay, the answer was always a cold 'fine'. Asking to share a bed—like they used to when they were younger—didn't feel like an option anymore. Armin was too scared to overstep.

It felt like any wrong move might cause irreversible damage. He knew he was being a coward. And he still hated himself for it.

When had he become so afraid?

Before, he never hesitated inserting himself into Eren's problems. They had always been inseparable; Armin's troubles were Eren's and Eren's troubles were Armin's.

Maybe they were growing apart. He quickly dismissed that thought and turned to lie on his other side.

He didn't like that idea.

There had to be another explanation.

Meanwhile, Eren's twisting and turning had come to an end. He threw off his blankets and sat up, rubbing his eyes before standing. It seemed he'd given up on sleep.

Soft footsteps and the sound of rummaging through the dresser filled the room. There was a certain carefulness to Eren's movements, as if he was trying to not wake Armin—who he thought was still asleep.

Armin suddenly felt inconsiderate in comparison.

He remained still, pretending to be asleep, pretending not to notice Eren's nightly distress.

Eren quietly left the room without making his bed. Armin remembered when he used to wait, making sure Armin got up on time so he wouldn't miss breakfast before training.

Out of the two of them, he was the morning person, while Armin stayed up too late reading or working on whatever little project he had his mind set on.

Armin missed the way Eren looked out for him.

Hit by a wave of guilt, he sat upright. Outside, the sky was slowly turning lighter.

As tired as he was, there was no use getting back to sleep now.

He'd talk to Eren later.

It had been a rainy day.

Eren sat on the windowsill, gazing outside at the clouds passing by, water streaming down the glass. He looked exhausted, zoning out, and it was clear he wasn't going to be very productive today.

Across the room, Armin hunched over at his desk, trying to read one of his many books from the overfilled shelf beside his bed.

It had become rare, for the two of them to spend time together. If one could call it that—they hadn't spoken a word to each other, not interacting at all. They used to be able to appreciate each others' presence just as was, no discomfort in silence. But as Eren became a shell of who he used to be—the silence became tense.

After a while, Armin couldn't stand it anymore—the silence, his cowardice, the guilt of not being there for Eren. Unable to take in a single word he tried to read, his mind circled back to the thing that has been plaguing him all this time. He had to speak up.

He shut his book harder than he meant to and dropped it on the desk—the sudden noise causing Eren to flinch slightly.

'Eren,' Armin said, trying to catch his attention.

He didn't look up, only giving a faint hum in response.

'Can we talk? Like… actually talk.'

Armin wasn't even sure what to talk about. Not having planned this, he spoke up without thinking for once—unusual for him. Despite rehearsing it constantly in his head, he could never settle on the right words.

Eren finally turned to face him, but stayed silent.

Frustrated, Armin kept going.

'I'm really worried about you,' he said as he stood up and walked over to the window, settling on the opposite side. Eren didn't move. But his expression shifted ever so slightly.

'You know you can talk to me, right?' Armin asked gently. 'There is something going on with you, Eren.' He paused, waiting for a reaction. Eren seemed like he wanted to respond, but before he could, Armin went on.

'I want to help you. You are hiding something from me. I can tell. Ever since the ceremony, you've been like this.'

Eren averted his gaze, muttering, 'I can't.'

'What happened that day?' Armin asked, quieter this time. 'When Historia handed you your medal—what's going on?'

The question made Eren's eyes widen, and he faced Armin again. Shock flashed across his face— Armin had seen right through him.

Leaning in, Armin moved his hands to cup Eren's face. He tried to keep his expression gentle but firm.

For a second, Eren appeared like wanted to push him away, but something held him back.

'Please, Eren, I can't bear to see you like this. You've been pushing me away, and it's eating away at me,' he said, voice starting to tremble. 'Talk to me, I just want to understand.'

Eren's mouth widened slightly, the shut again as he stayed silent.

'I'm your best friend, aren't I?' Armin added, 'I know I have been lacking lately, but… please.'

Eren looked lost for words, the conflict visible on his face.

'You saw something, didn't you?' Armin kept going. At this point, he didn't care if he pried too much.

Nothing. Eren kept quiet.

'…The Attack Titan can see the future, right?'

Armin thought back to those books he had found on the Reiss' estate. The one labeled Attack was stashed away where no one would be able to find it. At the time, he's been unsure about the accuracy of its contents, but according to Hange, the others appeared to be.

Eren's eyes widened. He shook Armin's hands off his face. Armin needed no further confirmation.

'How do you know that?' Eren demanded, urgency dripping from his voice.

'So you did see something," Armin said, ignoring the question.

Eren bent over and buried his face in his hands, facing away again, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

He was as fragile as Armin feared him to be.

He reached out, but Eren instinctively swatted his hand away.

'I saw… I-' Eren's voice cracked. 'Terrible things. I did... really terrible things, Armin.'

'Wha—'

Eren cut him off. 'It's all decided already...' Eren's voice shook. 'I—I can't change it.'

'What do you mean?' Armin finally managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

'Everything has been decided already.' Desperation bled into Eren's words as he continued. 'Armin, I didn't—I didn't mean for this to happen,' His words stumbled out as he pulled his hands back. 'No matter what I do… nothing changes.'

A sob burst out. 'I just wanted to—' His voice wavered. 'I wanted to protect you.'

'It's all my fault,' Eren cried. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

'Eren…' Armin whispered.

Armin wasn't sure if he understood what Eren was talking about. But that didn’t matter. 

He wrapped his arm around Eren, tightly enough that he couldn't pull away. Gently, he rubbed circles on his back as he hushed him.

'It's okay, Eren,' Armin murmured. It hurt him to see Eren suffer like this. His body shook from each shallow breath as he continued to sob. 'Deep breaths, okay?'

They sat like that for a while, Armin whispering reassurances to Eren until his sobs started to slow down.

Outside, the rain had lessened.

Armin let go so he could look at Eren.

But Eren kept his gaze averted.

‘The future I saw…’ he finally spoke again, more coherently now. ‘I caused it.’

At those words, Armin's heart started racing.

'Three years from now," Eren continued, "I will commit a terrible crime. I’ll start the Rumbling. Most of humanity will be wiped out.' His voice was eerily calm.

Armin stared in disbelief. "What—" he started, but Eren went on.

'And it won’t end… until you kill me.'

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and Armin's eyes widened in shock.

‘I’ll flatten eighty percent of the world. Colossal Titans will trample everything in their path as I walk with them. Millions will die—terrified, screaming, crushed beneath their feet. All because of me.’

Eren slipped out of the hug but caught Armin’s wrist, holding on as he continued. Armin didn’t dare protest.

‘I made my father kill the Reiss family," Eren said, voice hollowed. "Crushed those children. Squeezed the life out of them. I felt it too—as if I was the one who committed the act.’

Armin blinked, too stunned to speak. Eren sounded like an entirely different person all of a sudden. He was starting to scare him. The grip on his wrist was almost painful now.

'Why would you?' Armin's words came out shaky and confused.

"To obtain the Founding Titan—it had to happen…" Eren trailed off.

Armin froze, breath caught in his throat.

‘My mind is a mess, Armin," Eren admitted, not sounding as detached anymore. He let go of Armin’s wrist. ‘All the founder’s memories—they’re all here at once. There’s no past or future with them. And that’s why…”

His gaze shifted away.

‘It was inevitable.’

Armin tilted his head slightly in confusion.

‘That day… when Wall Maria fell.” Eren's voice began to tremble again. 'Bertholdt wasn't meant to die. Not yet.' 

He stopped, breath uneven as if he were trying to pull himself together. 

‘I sent that titan away to— to my…’

Armin reached for Eren’s shaking hands, intertwining their fingers. Horror was painted across his face, but he tried his best to hide it.

‘Eren,’ he said gently, softening his expression. As terrifying as Eren’s words were, in that moment, all he wanted was to be there for him.

He’d made Eren break down—the least he could do was offer comfort.

‘It must have been painful… to carry such a burden alone.” Armin’s grip on Eren’s hand tightened. “I’ll carry it with you.” Despite his worry, he added, “We’ll figure this out.”

Fear gnawed at him, but he offered a reassuring smile. “I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

Eren said nothing. He just looked sad.

'We will stay together, always, I promise.' Armin said, there was optimism in his voice. Their gazes met, and Eren gave him a silent, timid nod.

They sat there in silence until a sudden knock at the door startled them.

Eren shook off Armin's hands and stood.

'Eren, Armin!' Mikasa's voice called from outside.

Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door.

'You'll miss dinner if you don't—' she stopped, eyes fixed on Eren's tear-streaked face. ‘Have you been crying, Eren?’ Her voice was full of worry. Armin wasn’t the only one concerned about him.

Eren wiped his face with his sleeve, then brushed past Mikasa toward the door. “It’s nothing,” he muttered.

She stepped further into the room, looking at Armin for answers, but all he was able to give her was a sad smile.

“Don’t worry, Mikasa,” Armin said softly. He knew he couldn’t tell her what was really going on. “Let’s go.'

At the dining hall, Eren sat alone, avoiding their eyes. Armin and Mikasa joined him anyway, quietly starting their own meals. Around them, the room buzzed with voices and clattering utensils.

The air was tense, and Armin caught Mikasa staring at Eren while he ate.

‘Don’t pick at your food,’ she chided. 

Irritation flickered across his face in response. He stood up suddenly, took his plate—still half full of his unfinished meal—and dropped it off at the table next to them where Sasha was sitting. The sudden drop-off startled her and before she could say anything, Eren was already gone. However, she would never complain about free food.

“Eren, you should finish your meal,” Mikasa protested, standing so quickly her chair creaked.

For a second, it looked like she might follow him, but stopped herself and sank back into her seat with a sigh.

‘You too, Armin,” she said quietly, eyeing his barely touched plate. He hadn’t realized he’d been picking at it, still trying to process what happened earlier.

They ate in silence, Armin now watching Mikasa trying to hide her distress. But he could tell that Eren’s behavior took a bigger toll on her than she let on.

“I don’t like how Eren is pushing us away.” Her voice came out fragile, thinner than usual.

Armin gently put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t like it either…”

That night, Armin barely slept. Eren’s confession made his brain work overtime trying to make sense of it all.

He stared at the ceiling, noting a cobweb in the corner. Eren had always been the better cleaner between them, but he clearly had other things on his mind lately.

Those other things…

Eighty percent of humanity, gone? Because of Eren?

The thought scared Armin. That Eren would be capable of such a crime. His voice had shifted from broken to cold-hearted as he described those horrors.

It frightened him.

Eren’s words were so calm, like they came from a different person. Like someone else was speaking for him.

Forcing Grisha to kill the Reiss family. Taking both the Founding and Attack Titan. Letting Carla die that day? For what? Armin still couldn’t comprehend the logic behind Eren’s reasoning.

He doubted he ever would.

It left him twisted up with anger and confusion.

He thought of Mikasa—how defeated she’d looked after Eren walked out of the dining hall. How would she have handled this?

Would Eren have told her if she’d pressed him? Would she even believe it? She was so protective of him it would be unfathomable. Hell, it was hard enough for Armin to make sense of it.

He rolled over, readjusting his pillow, trying to shut his mind down. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about anything at all. Despite the questions gnawing at him, he wanted to turn a blind eye again. But he knew he couldn’t. He’d promised Eren that he’d figure something out.

He had to try. Otherwise, everyone—and Eren—would die.

Eren dying… that hurt even more than everything else.

It made his head spin. No wonder Eren had been acting the way he had.

There had to be a way to change this. There had to be.

Chapter Text

'Eren seems… better,' Mikasa said, eyes fixed on the sparring match in front of them.

Eren ducked a wide swing from Jean, yelling something they couldn't hear, a wide grin stretched across his face.

'Somewhat, yeah,' Armin replied, hugging his knees tighter to his chest. 'He's still not completely back to his old self…'

But he knew that wouldn't happen.

Ever since that day—when Eren finally told Armin what he saw—something had shifted. He wasn't hiding as much anymore. He no longer skipped meals or stared through people like they weren't there.

But it was fragile; he still snapped at the slightest inconvenience.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. Armin still heard the ruffle of sheets, the soft groans drifting out between shallow, uneven breaths.

He'd started noticing little things—how Eren would suddenly stop in his tracks sometimes, like he'd forgotten where he was, before composing himself again.

At times, Armin caught Eren staring at him in a way he couldn't quite describe. It made him uneasy.

Other times, he was nearly indistinguishable from his old self. On good days—like today—he'd engage in banter with the others, go along with Sasha and Connie's pranks, take Jean's bait without biting his head off.

As if he wasn't planning to disturb their lives, two years from now.

'But I'm glad to see him more lively again,' Mikasa said, voice hopeful. 'It reminds me of how he used to be, back when we were trainees.'

It had been Eren's idea to come out here. He'd dragged them out to the training grounds, even though it was their day off. To keep up their strength, he'd told them.

In the end, only he and Jean had taken the training seriously.

Sasha and Connie were running around, goofing off and doing anything but training.

Armin hadn’t been interested in joining them—instead, he watched from the sidelines. Mikasa had joined him on the bench after defeating Eren in the first round of sparring.

He quietly observed her for a moment while she intently stared at the two men in front of them. She had always looked at Eren like that. Her usual harsh expression would soften the moment she laid eyes on him. It was never subtle—everyone picked up on it.

Everyone saw it.

Everyone except Eren.

'Say, Mikasa,' Armin said after a moment.

She hummed in response, still not taking her eyes off Eren.

'How do you feel about Eren? Like really feel about him?'

That caught her attention. 'He's…' she hesitated, then looked away. 'He's family.' Her cheeks flushed.

Armin narrowed his eyes. He didn't buy it. She always said Eren was family, but her actions told a different story. Family didn't look at each other like that.

There was a loud thud, followed by a groan as Eren threw Jean to the ground. Armin shifted his gaze toward them.

'Is Jean more to your liking then?' he asked, a hint of mischief slipping into his voice.

Mikasa stiffened. 'Jean is…' she paused for a moment, twiddling her thumbs as she stared down at them. 'He is a friend.'

Armin gave her a smug look. 'Like how Eren is family,' he teased.

Mikasa didn't say anything. She just buried her face in her hands, trying to hide.

'You can be honest with me,' he said, voice softer now. 'I won't make fun of you. I promise.'

Mikasa didn't answer right away.

'I like him,' she said at last, voice small. She still didn't look up—like she barely dared to say it aloud.

Armin glanced toward Eren again. 'Y'know, if you don't tell him….' Armin started, voice quieter now, serious—different from his earlier teasing. 'He might be gone before you realise.'

He would be gone.

The thought made his heart ache.

Especially with how he had been keeping Eren at an arms-length. Regret would swallow him whole once he was gone—once he'd flattened the earth.

He wondered, faintly, if he was trying to convince himself—not her.

The sparring match hadn't ended. Eren and Jean were still wrestling on the ground—Jean's white shirt already stained with dirt. Meanwhile, Eren's had ridden up, exposing his muscular abdomen.

Armin bit his lip, almost subconsciously, as he took in the sight.

The view reminded him of how Eren's behaviour towards him had changed. More clingy—sitting too close, always finding little excuses to touch him. It hadn't bothered him at first, but lately, he found himself pulling away for some reason.

But when he didn't, Eren's touch lingered—warm against his skin, the sensation making his heart skip a beat.

'Why don't you tell Annie then?' Mikasa said with a small huff, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Armin jerked his head up, caught off guard by the question. 'Huh?'

He sat up straighter, blinking at her.

Mikasa shrugged. 'You go see her all the time,' she said, voice flat but not unkind. 'Don't you like her?'

A flush crept up the back of his neck. 'I don't know—I just…' he trailed off, shifting his legs, the bench creaking softly beneath him. 'It's easier to let my thoughts out to someone who doesn't talk back.'

Did he like Annie?

He visited her often, sure, but he mostly just rambled on about Eren.

Eren…

Mikasa tilted her head. 'Sure thing,' she said sarcastically, the words laced with quiet amusement.

'I-I mean it!' Armin blurted, too quick to pass for casual.

Mikasa didn't press. She just turned to him with a knowing look and a hint of a smug grin.

'If you say so.'

He looked at the ground, knowing he couldn't tell her anything. So he stayed quiet.

Silence stretched between them. Across the field, the sound of sparring filled the air. Mikasa's eyes drifted back to the scene, her posture softening. She didn't need to say anything—Armin could tell she was enjoying the view.

The match ended with Jean flat on his back, chest heaving. Eren was bent over with his hands on his knees, dripping sweat and breathing hard.

Faint yelling grew louder as Sasha came running from the direction of the storage sheds —Connie chasing her while she clutched a piece of bread to her chest like treasure.

Their chaos drifted by like background noise.

Mikasa tugged her scarf tighter around her face. 'I just want to stay by his side,' she said quietly, voice slightly muffled in the fabric.

Armin reached out, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. Then, slowly, he pulled her closer. A small, wordless offer of comfort.

'So do I,' he said softly, and he meant it. Even now—even with all his qualms about Eren, he still wanted to stay by his side.

He leaned sideways until his head landed on her shoulder, closing his eyes. 'I'd like it if the three of us could stay together.' His words came out tender.

'Hey!' Eren jogged over with a big stupid grin on his face. Jean followed behind at a much slower pace, looking less amused.

The sudden yelling shattered their moment, and Armin slowly lifted his head off Mikasa's shoulder, fixing his posture.

'No more slacking off, Armin!' Eren—somehow full of energy again—grabbed his hand and hauled him off the bench.

Mikasa gave him a small smile and waved timidly, as if to wish him good luck.

Jean side-eyed Armin, who looked back at him with quiet desperation as Eren dragged him off to the training grounds.

Marleyan ships had been ambushed. Their soldiers were held hostage, slowly lowering their guards as time went on. They struck a deal with Yelena, and the other volunteers, one that would be mutually beneficial to both sides.

Despite the help from Yelena and her troops, things kept moving slowly.

Too slowly for Eren's liking.

Armin could tell that he was growing more irritable each day. Like he was antsy to move forward as quickly as possible—like he had no time to be wasted.

He felt like he'd been suffocating; the countless meetings with the higher-ups, long days locked in strategy sessions with Hange,

Today's meeting with Hange had led nowhere—again. Armin held no faith in the ideas they brought to the table, knowing they wouldn't change a thing.

Eventually, the conversation spiralled. Hange launched into another ramble about all the ways they could utilize his titan powers with the newly obtained knowledge from the volunteer soldiers.

The meeting had run late. It was already past dinner by the time Armin made it to the showers, choosing solitude over another tense meal.

Mikasa would probably save him some bread. He didn’t feel up to dealing with Eren's overbearing behaviour tonight anyway.

He turned on the water, letting it warm up while he undressed. As he stepped under the shower, the heat released some of the tension in his back muscles.

But as his body relaxed, his mind did the complete opposite.

Still caught up in thoughts about Eren.

Still felt conflicted about it all. Still struggling to accept what Eren had told him. Everything he claimed he saw.

Eren had finally opened up again, let Armin in. So why was he feeling so apprehensive? He'd wanted it. He'd missed it.

Missed the way Eren used to smile at him. But now, when it came, he couldn't return the sentiment.

The more Eren opened up again, Armin found himself pulling away instead,

He started staying out longer in the evening, hoping Eren would be asleep by the time he got back.

When Eren saved him a seat at dinner, he'd choose to sit on the opposite side—avoiding eye contact.

It was too hard to meet his gaze, knowing the future he would bring.

'Two thousand years ago, Founder Ymir submitted to King Fritz, leading to the titan powers we see today,' Eren had said, 'And everything had to happen in order for it to end.'

'All I did… was follow that path.'

His voice had been so detached, as if everything had already happened.

Armin remembered every word.

Steam thickened in the bathroom. He lathered the bar of soap, spreading foam across his torso, starting with his back. The simple motion evoked a memory of Eren’s hand earlier—dragging from shoulder to waist, tracing every line before resting against him. He hadn’t let go as they left the bedroom, and the thought still made Armin’s stomach tingle.

Which only made him want to get away more.

He didn't want to have to deal with the conflicting feelings. Like how he felt when Eren woke him with that mellow smile—a smile that reminded Armin of the old Eren. It made him wonder what was left of him.

How much was real?

How much was titan influence?

How much of it was so fragile it might collapse with the slightest touch?

The questions made him want to avoid Eren even more, the way he used to. The way he'd promised himself not to do again.

He turned off the shower and reached for a towel. Even as he dried off, his thoughts were still plagued by Eren.

A quiet sigh slipped from his mouth.

What was he even doing?

'There you are!'

Armin was startled out of his thoughts by Eren's voice. He'd been found—still damp, half-dressed, hair dripping.

'You weren't at dinner,' Eren pointed out, voice light. Not accusing. 'I was getting worried.'

'Sorry, I had a meeting with Hange and…' Armin started, shaking his head softly. 'You know how they are.'

Eren hummed thoughtfully as he stepped closer—his gaze dragging, not so subtly, across Armin's exposed chest where thin streams of water trailed down from his soaked hair.

Why was Eren looking at him like that?

The room felt too warm all of a sudden. He wasn't sure if it was because of Eren's proximity or from the shower.

'What made you even take a shower at this time, anyway?' Eren asked with a raised brow, as if he didn't fully believe him. 'You shouldn't skip meals.'

He reached out, fingers gently tracing along the outline of Armin's ribcage, until he settled at his waist, giving a gentle squeeze.

Heat rushed to Armin's cheeks. 'I wanted to be alone for a bit…' he said meekly, looking away.

'You seem to want that a lot lately,' Eren said. 'You've been coming back so late...' His tone softened at the edges.

Armin's stomach twisted. He hadn't realised he'd been that obvious.

'I… I just have a lot on my mind lately.' He pried off Eren's hand.

Eren furrowed his brows. 'You can talk to me.'

'It's fine.'

But it wasn't.

He didn’t want to say what was really in his head, afraid of how Eren might react—terrified of breaking him again by spilling all his anxieties. He couldn’t bear to burden him further, so he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

'You're not avoiding me, are you?' The sudden sharpness in his tone made Armin shiver.

'No…' he said, voice thin with guilt, unconvincing to his own ears.

'Don't lie to me, Armin.' Eren's voice roughened, the edge of irritation bleeding through. 'You have been.'

There it was again—that unfamiliar look in his eyes, the one that showed up when he snapped. He didn't like this Eren.

He took a step forward. Armin tried to back away, but he only managed to trap himself against the wall.

With a thud, Eren planted a hand beside his head, leaning closer, boxing him in. His eyes were intense. 'Give me a break,' Eren growled. 'First you butt into my business because you felt lonely, and now you push me away?'

Armin kept his gaze locked on the floor. 'It's not like tha—'

'You begged me to talk 'until I broke,' Eren snapped, cutting him off. 'You swore you'd shoulder this burden with me. Was that a lie too?' His voice kept climbing. 'Now you're just… ditching me. So you can go talk to a goddamn stone every night?'

Plagued by embarrassment, Armin turned his head to the side, wishing he could crawl out his own skin.

'What does she have that I don't? Eren asked, jealousy dripping off his voice. 'Why am I not enough for you?' He inched closer, too close. 'And now you won't even look at me. Pathetic.'

I know, Armin thought, but the words caught in his throat.

'Don't fucking ignore me!' The sudden yell made Armin cower.

With his free hand, Eren grasped Armin's cheeks—forcing him to make eye contact.

Armin was frozen in fear.

'Why are you staring at me like that?' Eren asked, voice flat.

'Like what?' he said quietly, voice cracking slightly.

'Like you're scared of me.'

Armin trembled. 'Because I am…' he barely managed to choke out.

Eren grabbed him by the shoulders, as if to shake him—almost frantic. 'You know I would never hurt you, right?!' His voice was loud and urgent. Armin flinched.

'I'm doing this so you will be safe.' The words made no sense. 'I care about you so much. I won't hurt you. I won't. I just want to spend time with you,' Eren added, suddenly small, tears welling in his eyes. 'The little time I have.'

Then, something seemed to snap him out of it. His grip on Armin loosened like he was only just realising how scared Armin was. Because of him.

'Please… stop.' Armin pleaded, barely able to keep his voice from cracking.

Hit by guilt, Eren stepped back—letting go of him completely. He looked like he'd been slapped across the face.

'I promise… I'm not gonna hurt you.' Eren stammered, voice low and shaky. 'I… I'm sorry.'

He didn't wait for a response. Just turned and stormed off, leaving Armin alone in the silence.

'I just want to spend time with you'

The words echoed in his mind as he lifted a hand to his shoulder, tracing the spot where Eren's tight grip had been, faint red marks blooming against his pale skin.

He'd fucked up.

They avoided each other for the rest of the day. That night, they went to bed without a word between them.

When Armin woke the next morning, Eren was still in the room. But the second he noticed Armin stirring—before he could even open his mouth—he sped out of the room, letting the door slam shut.

They were meant to learn more about technological advancements from other countries today, brought by the volunteer soldiers. Eren, however, had settled back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly disinterested.

Armin felt Eren's sharp glances land on him every so often. He tried to ignore them, but found himself shuddering every time he noticed.

At dinner, Eren sat himself down next to Mikasa at the edge of the bench—who became flustered by the sudden close contact—making it so Armin couldn't sit next to him. Not that he was planning to.

Then, they had cleaning duty. Being honorary soldiers didn't matter to Captain Levi, who had them mopping and dusting the dining hall on rotation, night after night.

Eren ditched them as soon as he'd finished his chores, rushing through the job and earning himself a scolding from Levi on the way out.

'Oi, you brats.' Levi turned his attention to Armin and Mikasa, still busy sweeping and wiping the tables. 'Make sure you do it properly,' he said in his usual stern voice. 'Don't want this place turning into a fucking pigpen.'

Mikasa glared at him, but he was already gone, leaving them to finish off on their own.

Armin leaned his broom against the wall and wandered over to her. 'Wanna go?'

With the captain gone, he decided they'd done enough cleaning for the day. He didn't have to say it twice—Mikasa threw her cloth into the bucket and swiftly gathered the supplies, putting them back inside the closet where they belonged.

Instead of heading straight back, Armin opted to take a scenic route, Mikasa tagging along without complaining. 

'Did something happen between you and Eren again?' Mikasa asked, breaking the silence of their quiet stroll. 'You two have been acting weird all day.'

'It's nothing,' Armin mumbled, kicking a pebble across the path. 

'Just a bit of a disagreement,' he said. 'He'll come around.' 

She didn't respond, haven taken the hint that he didn't want to get into it; they continued to walk in silence, the sky above them slowly turning dark as the air grew colder. The cold made him put his hands in the pockets of his coat, trying to keep warm. 

'We should head back,' Mikasa said, as she looked up to the cloudy sky—no stars in sight.

Armin stopped in his tracks. He didn't want to return to their room just yet, fearing Eren would still be awake. The tension had only grown today.

'C'mon.' She tugged at his wrist, 'Before you catch a cold.'

Mikasa never changed her worrying ways.

Sitting at his desk, illuminated only by an old oil lamp, Armin flipped through his notebook—page after page of random ideas and notes from earlier.

He peeked across the room—Eren was asleep.

With a yawn, he hunched forward again, grabbing one of the pencils scattered across the desk.

Unable to put down anything useful, he wrote a few words only to cross them out immediately. He was stuck.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and threw his head back with an exaggerated sigh of frustration. The chair scraped against the floor as he pushed away from the desk.

It was loud enough to wake Eren.

'Why are you still awake?' he groaned, voice rough, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

'Just writing some things down; you can go back to sleep.'

He shot Eren a quick glance, then focused his attention on the page before him, trying to look busy by doodling random shapes.

A weight settled on his shoulder as Eren came over to embrace him. 'I'm sorry,' he mumbled.

Confused, Armin turned his head to face him, letting out a quiet hum.

'For yesterday.' Eren nuzzled his face into Armin's back. 'I don't know what's gotten into me.'

Armin gently placed his own hands on top of Eren's. 'It's okay, I should be the one to apologise,' he said softly. 'I've been ignoring you right when you finally let me in again.'

'I just want us to be okay,' Eren whispered, hugging him tighter. His gaze flicked down at the notebook, glaring at it. 'You weren't writing things down,' Eren stated plainly, then added in a teasing tone, 'Liar.'

Armin started to pull away, reaching for his pencil.

'Nope.'

Eren didn't give him a chance to protest—one arm slipped beneath his knees, the other behind his back. In one swift motion, he lifted Armin out of the chair and carried him bridal style across the room, then dropped him—not so gently—onto the bed with a soft thump.

Armin groaned. 'What was that for?'

'Bedtime,' Eren said simply.

Chapter Text

Things had been going well.

They were sitting outside beneath a large oak tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves. It was Sunday, which meant they were off duty—free to spend the day however they pleased.

Well, Armin was sitting. Eren, on the other hand, was lying down with his head resting on Armin's thighs. Neither of them spoke, content to simply enjoy each other's presence. It had become a regular occurrence again.

Armin had brought a book. He'd been trying to read it, but Eren's presence was distracting.

Over the past few months, Eren had started acting more and more like his old self, and Armin found himself growing less wary. Less disturbed. Almost forgetting what Eren was going to do.

Almost.

It still worried him—how Eren could act so normal now, even knowing exactly what he intended to carry out.

But regardless, whenever Eren managed a genuine smile, all Armin could feel was relief.

Relief that the heavy weight seemed to have been lifted off Eren's shoulders now that Armin had chosen to share it with him—willingly burdening himself.

And a burden it was.

'It's disappointing,' Eren said suddenly, breaking the silence.

'What is?' Armin asked, caught off guard.

'Well. Everything.'

The tone was casual, but Armin still couldn't tell where he was going with it.

Eren did that sometimes—just blurted things out of nowhere with no setup, no warning. Armin had come to expect it. He figured it was some side effect of the Founding Titan.

The memories. The timelines.

Eren would talk about things that hadn't happened yet, jumbling it all together in his brain.

My mind is a mess, Armin.

Those words still haunted him.

'When you told me about the outside world when we were little...' Eren went on, tone still calm. 'I had such different expectations.'

He paused, gaze drifting into the distance, like his mind had gone elsewhere.

'I was disappointed to learn it was nothing like the pictures you showed me. It made me want to see a different sight.'

Armin raised an eyebrow. He remembered how Eren used to talk, like there was no other way.

'So I flattened everything,' Eren said. Just like that. Too casual.

A quiet sigh escaped Armin. Even after accepting Eren, it still bothered him at times—the way he made it all sound so simple.

'We can still explore the outside world,' Armin offered, trying to keep his voice hopeful.

'I've seen so much already,' Eren murmured. There was a certain sadness buried in his voice—one that would show itself from time to time.

'I'm sure there are still sights to be seen.'

No words from Eren. Just a cold, blank stare—right into Armin's eyes, like he was looking straight through him. A shiver travelled down his spine.

'After all of this,' Eren said slowly, 'you should go and live a long and happy life, Armin.'

'How am I supposed to do that?' He couldn't keep his voice from cracking.

'As the titan powers cease to exist, so will Ymir's Curse.' Eren's voice was once again casual. 'There's no thirteen-year limit.'

'That's not what I meant,' Armin said quietly, not entirely sure if he wanted Eren to hear it.

He knew he could live a long life.

He knew the curse would end—once the titan powers were gone, once Eren fulfilled his goal—but how was he supposed to be happy after that?

'Is your book fun?' Eren asked, suddenly changing the topic again.

Without waiting for an answer, he pushed himself upright and scooted closer, settling beside Armin. He leaned in until their shoulders pressed together, peeking at the page Armin had been trying to read.

Armin just hummed in response.

The brown leaves rustled above them. A gust of wind suddenly swept past, flipping the pages of his book and blowing his hair into his face.

Eren reached out and brushed aside the misplaced strands. It had been a while since the last time Armin had cut it—now it reached slightly above his shoulders, his bangs long enough to keep falling into his eyes.

Heat crept into Armin's cheeks when Eren pushed his hair out of his face and gently tucked it behind his ear—only for a few stubborn pieces to fall right back into place.

'What are you doing?' he asked with a nervous chuckle, feeling Eren's hand linger, twirling the ends between his fingers.

'Enjoying it while I can.'

As Eren attempted to make braids, each soft tug at Armin's scalp sent a strange little tingle down his spine.

'Don't make knots,' Armin warned, trying to sound composed.

'I'll brush them out for you.'

Instead of replying, Armin stayed quiet and let Eren do as he pleased.

Eren forked his fingers through his hair, unravelling and restarting messy little braids, over and over again.

The sensation made it impossible to focus—he couldn’t take in a single word of the book anymore.

Eventually, Eren let go, the strands falling back into place.

“Are you done now?” Armin asked flatly, turning his head toward him.

He wanted to get back to his book—he’d barely made any progress today.

'No.'

With a teasing grin, Eren ruffled his hair, messing up what he'd just brushed out. Then he leaned in, burying his nose in it and inhaling deeply.

'Smells nice,' he said, his mouth close to Armin's ear. The vibration of his voice made Armin flutter.

'Weirdo,' Armin muttered, cheeks warm. For a second, he considered pushing him away.

Instead, Eren hummed and nuzzled in deeper, closing his eyes, resting his head on Armin's shoulder.

It wasn’t long before he fell asleep.

A sudden shiver ran through Armin's body.

Eren stirred beside him, the movement jerking him from his light nap.

'Cold?' he asked groggily, wrapping an arm around Armin's shivering body. 'Let's head back, before Mikasa gets worried.' A soft smile spread across his face.

Armin managed a small nod. He didn't want to move, didn't want to lose the warmth, but he let Eren pull him to his feet.

They walked through the grassy field, every few steps crunching through dry autumn leaves.

Armin was still shivering. He reached out and clung to Eren's arm, hugging it close to his body in a weak attempt to steal some warmth.

Eren let out a small chuckle. He shook his arm a little, making Armin whine in protest. Then he took off his coat and draped it over Armin's shoulders. The fabric hung loose and heavy, far too big for his smaller frame.

'There you go.'

Armin pulled the oversized coat tighter around himself, snuggling into it, noting the way it carried Eren’s scent.

'Weirdo,' Eren teased, putting an arm around him.

They had some errands to run today.

Sasha, Mikasa, Eren and Armin. The four of them went into the bustling city centre of Stohess.

Market stalls lined the streets, the space between them packed with people.

When they came across a small sweet shop, Mikasa barely had time to react before Sasha dragged her inside, leaving Armin and Eren behind.

'Ditching us for food…' Eren muttered.

'Typical Sasha,' Armin replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

'Look who it is!'

A sudden voice alerted them. It was Hitch, with a few of her friends trailing after her as she made her way over.

'Aren't you going to visit your girlfriend today?' she asked Armin with her usual teasing smile.

Armin's face flushed red. He shot a brief glance at Eren, who suddenly wore a bothered expression.

'Y-you know it's not like that...' he stammered, unable to hide the shyness in his voice. It was embarrassing, really, how he kept visiting a girl he barely knew—who didn't even talk back. No wonder everyone always teased him.

'Sure thing,' she said sarcastically, giving him a wink. Then, with a small shrug, she quickly dropped the topic and slipped into small talk instead.

'So, how's life in the Survey Corps treating you?' she asked, voice indifferent. 'I haven't seen you about lately.'

Armin just told her about the countless meetings he'd been busy with, keeping it vague on purpose, not giving her any interesting gossip.

Meanwhile, her friends had shifted their attention to Eren—who had traded his usual stoic look for a flustered one.

'You're even more handsome up close,' one of the girls cooed, placing her hands on Eren's arm and fluttering her lashes at him.

'Why don't you join us today, Mister Eren Yeager?' Another said, dragging out his name, clearly trying to flirt as well.

'You don't happen to have a girlfriend, do you?' The first girl asked, still holding his arm—now tracing along it playfully.

Eren's face grew even redder.

Armin felt his chest tighten.

'Well, uh, I'm… uh,' Eren stammered, glancing nervously at Armin. 'I'm busy today...'

'Awww, that's no fun.'

'It must be tough, all those Titan duties of yours.' The other girl stepped even closer to him.

'Y-yeah! So busy!' Eren laughed it off, but Armin could hear the panic in his voice. He awkwardly turned his head, trying to distance himself, then shot Armin a look so desperate it felt like a silent plea for help.

Instead of rescuing him, Armin turned his gaze away, brows furrowed. He pretended to be caught up in conversation with Hitch, but couldn't hide his displeasure at those girls fawning over Eren like that.

'Oh, I see how it is,' Hitch teased, eyes darting between him and Eren, the smugness returning to her face. 'What a player you are.'

'Player?!' Armin's head shot up, heat rushing to his face. 'W-what do you—'

As if on cue, a sudden voice interrupted, sparing Armin from further embarrassment.

'Eren! Armin!' Sasha yelled excitedly, voice muffled by a pastry in her mouth. Her arms were full, both hands carrying bags from the shop.

Armin spotted Mikasa just behind her, quiet and deadly, eyes already shooting daggers at the girls swarming Eren.

They seemed to notice too.

'Well, we better get going,' Hitch said quickly. 'It was fun catching up.'

She gave a small wave as she and her friends turned to leave. The sound of disappointed mumbling and heels clicking on the pavement grew quieter with their retreat.

'Who were those girls?' Mikasa asked, voice flat and edged with accusation as she turned to Eren.

Before he could answer, Sasha cut through the tension by shoving a donut into his hands, beaming with a stupidly big smile.

'They're warm!' she announced, already bouncing away toward Armin.

Eren just gave Mikasa an awkward smile. 'I don't know.'

Once Hitch and her friends were out of sight, he turned to Armin.

'You still go to see Annie?' he asked, voice slightly muffled as he took a bite of out his donut.

Armin looked ahead as they started walking. Mikasa and Sasha were a few steps in front of them, bickering over Sasha's spending habits.

'Not really,' he said, noticing the way Eren's face seemed to soften at the answer. 'Why do you want to know?'

'Just curious,' Eren replied, taking another bite and giving a half-shrug—like he was trying to be casual.

Armin glanced down at the donut in his hands, quickly losing himself in his thoughts. Thinking back to those girls, the way they nearly threw themselves at Eren so shamelessly, how it made his chest bunch up.

Why did it bother him so much?

'Stop staring at it,' Eren said, snapping Armin back to reality.

He hadn't realised he'd been spacing out. He parted his lips to reply, but before he could get a word out, Eren snatched the pastry from his hands and shoved it into his mouth.

'They're better when they're still warm,' he added with a smile.

Armin slowly chewed, facing away, trying to hide the flush that crept back onto his face.

'I guess they are.' A soft smile formed on his face as he kept his gaze down. He didn't really care if they were warm or not, happy enough at Eren's gesture.

Today was one of Eren's bad days.

One of those days where he was on edge.

He'd gained a habit of being clingy to Armin during times like these—and he had long since stopped trying to push him away.

Letting Eren follow him around like a lost puppy was easier than watching him unravel.

It had started before morning, while the sky outside was still dark.

Armin had been awoken by the sounds of yet another nightmare—Eren's wails cutting through the stillness. He slid out of bed, feet meeting the cold floor as he padded quietly across the room to Eren's side.

Without a word, he crawled into the other bed and cuddled up to Eren. The closeness seemed to soothe him; the crying eased. Armin caressed his hair softly, hoping it would keep him placid.

It wasn’t long before Armin dozed off again.

The next time he opened his eyes, Eren was already awake—arms wrapped tightly around him.

He tried to worm his way out of bed, but the grip on his waist only tightened, stopping him.

'Don't go,' Eren said, voice thin and trembling. 'Can't we just stay like this?'

'We shou—' Armin began, only to be cut off.

'There's still some time left.'

'Sure…' Armin sighed. 'Only for a little bit.'

There was no point in arguing. He knew he wouldn't win this fight anyway.

Throughout the day, Eren carried a nervous edge that hadn't been there the day before.

At breakfast, Eren jumped at the slightest disturbances, kept to himself and flinched away from other people—like they scared him somehow.

When they left the cafeteria, someone bumped into his shoulder, and he recoiled hard—the reaction disproportionate to how small the encounter was.

Floch had been walking too close behind him, elbow clipping him in passing. Even after he was gone, Eren still cowered.

'What's with him?' Floch muttered, gaze sharp and bitter as it flicked to Armin—who returned it with just as much venom.

Mikasa had seen it too. 'Eren?' she said gently, reaching for him—but before she could make contact, he edged closer to Armin instead, instinctively seeking comfort there.

Her hand faltered. She looked down, a somber expression flickering across her face, clearly hurt by the rejection.

No one said anything after that. They silently made their way to the training grounds.

During morning drills, Eren completely zoned out—and would have run into a wire fence if Armin hadn't pulled him away just in time.

By noon, once they were finally given free time, Eren stuck awfully close to Armin's side, not giving him much room to breathe. It was suffocating, but he couldn't bring himself to put distance between them.

It didn't go unnoticed.

'Stalking Armin again, huh? How creepy,' Jean said, voice loud, but without much malice. It carried that same familiar tone he always used when baiting Eren.

Except he didn't bite this time.

Armin had hoped he would.

It didn't surprise Armin when Eren quietly asked if they could head back early. He didn't want to face anyone else, but he didn't want to be alone either.

Armin gave in without protest; he wanted to be there for him. Things had been going so well lately, and he couldn't bear the thought of failing him again.

Back in their room, Eren let himself fall down onto the edge of his bed, looking drained—miserable in a way Armin hadn't seen in a long time.

'Is everything okay?' he asked carefully, sitting down beside Eren. 'You've been awfully clingy all day.'

Instead of answering, Eren pulled him into a suffocatingly tight hug and burst into tears.

'Hey, now…' Armin whispered, voice tender and quiet. 'What's wrong?'

Eren's whole body shook as he buried his face in Armin's chest.

'It’s all too much,' he choked out. 'I don’t want to hear those screams anymore. I… I just want to forget, Armin.'

His voice broke as he pressed his face deeper into Armin's shirt. 'My brain's all messed up.'

At a loss for what else to do, Armin patted his head, the touch delicate, almost hesitant.

Candlelight flickered from the nightstand, illuminating the tears staining Eren's face.

'Make it stop,' he pleaded, each sob wracking his body. 'I can't take it anymore.'

Armin rubbed slow circles into his back, rocking him gently, desperate for anything that might help. The steady rhythm seemed to soothe him, and little by little, the sobs tapered off.

Without thinking, Armin leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

Eren blinked up at him in confusion, the sobs dying in his throat at the unexpected gesture.

'I'll be with you,' Armin said quietly. 'I said I would do whatever I can, didn't I?'

He offered a gentle smile, cupping Eren's face and brushing away the last of his tears with his thumbs.

'And if I can help you forget—even if only temporary—I'll gladly do so.'

His gaze dropped to Eren's mouth before he lifted a hand to his chin, tilting his face closer.

Their lips met.

Armin closed his eyes, letting the tender kiss linger before pulling back.

Eren didn't react—he only stared, wide-eyed and stunned.

Worry caught in Armin's chest. Realising what he’d just done—afraid he might’ve overstepped—he quickly dropped his hands and began to move away.

But Eren didn't let go.

His arms stayed locked around Armin, holding him in place. Then he tugged him in again, closer this time.

Taking it as a sign to keep going, Armin leaned in once more, lips finding Eren's in another kiss.

This time, Eren kissed him back. He shifted upright without breaking contact, deepening the kiss before slowly pulling away.

'Since when?' he asked, voice still shaky and on the verge of breaking.

Their faces remained close. Eren's breath tickling Armin's skin.

Wordlessly, Armin tucked a few strands of hair behind Eren's ear, brushing it aside so he could look into his glassy eyes.

He gave a gentle, affectionate smile and whispered, 'I don't know.'

It didn't matter.

All he wanted now was for Eren to feel okay. To let him forget his sorrows—just for a little while.

He leaned in for another kiss, this one more eager, more daring.

His tongue licked lightly against Eren's lips, asking for permission to enter.

Eren let out a soft noise, parting his mouth as his hands came up to cradle Armin’s face.

Their mouths moved clumsily at first, neither of them having any real experience. They tasted each other fully, tongues intertwining as the kiss grew less awkward, their movements falling into rhythm.

The room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the soft smack of lips. Eren's fingers tangled in Armin's hair—short now, freshly cut.

When Eren broke away for air, Armin let out a soft groan in protest and caught his face again, palms cradling warm skin as he pulled him back in.

He wanted more. So much more.

Sliding his hands down to Eren's shoulders, he gently guided him back onto the mattress without breaking the kiss.

One hand slipped under Eren’s shirt, fingers tracing lightly from his abs to his chest—brushing against his nipple—drawing a shiver from him.

Armin leaned in close, lips skimming over the shell of Eren's ear, planting a soft kiss behind it before sucking gently at the skin there.

He worked his way down—along his jaw, following the curve of his neck, leaving a trail of saliva.

Once he reached his collarbone, he sucked down hard enough to leave a red mark and was rewarded with a needy moan.

At first, Armin had only wanted to comfort Eren, to help him forget the pain. That was the whole reason why he'd thrown himself at him.

But now, he found himself wanting something different.

He just wanted Eren.

Craved him in a way that had nothing to do with comfort.

'Is this okay?' Armin asked, voice low, fingers tugging at the waistband of Eren's pants.

'Please,' Eren whined, breath catching.

That was enough.

Armin pressed their mouths together again, unwilling to waste a second. He savoured the taste of Eren as he fumbled with his belt, shaking too much to open the buckle.

Their lips broke apart, just barely.

'Do you need help?' Eren asked, breath hot against his cheek.

'I can do it,' Armin mumbled, a little flustered, as he made another attempt at Eren's belt—finally getting it undone.

He slid Eren's pants down, revealing the bulge beneath his underwear—hard and straining against the thin fabric. The sight made Armin's pulse jump.

But instead of touching, he reached for the hem of Eren's shirt, pushing it up slowly to expose his stomach. When the fabric bunched up, Eren sat up briefly to pull it over his head and toss it across the room.

Just looking at Eren's uncovered body made Armin even harder.

He traced playfully over Eren’s erection, earning another lewd and breathy whimper. But when he tugged at the waistband of his underwear, Eren's hand shot out to grab his wrist.

Armin froze, wondering if maybe he went too fast or if Eren had changed his mind.

'Not fair,' Eren murmured, pressing both palms to Armin’s chest.

A small sigh of relief escaped Armin's mouth.

Then Eren was the one moving. He fumbled with the buttons on Armin's shirt, rushing so much he skipped one, and the fabric tore slightly as he tugged it open.

As soon as his shirt hit the floor, Eren paused, lip caught between his teeth as he took a moment to gawk at his flushed, exposed chest.

He barely had time to enjoy the view before Armin was throwing himself at him again.

Lewd, shaky sounds spilled from Eren as Armin planted wet kisses on his neck. He nibbled softly—not hard enough to leave any marks, but enough to make Eren squirm.

At some point, Eren's underwear got pushed down and kicked aside. His hands never stopped moving over Armin's skin as he kicked off the rest of his own clothes, leaving them both completely naked.

'Wait,' Eren blurted, just as Armin settled between his legs. 'I have oil… in my nightstand.'

'Heh.' Armin leaned over, reaching for the drawer. 'Pervert.'

But the nightstand was farther away than expected, and he had to stretch awkwardly to reach it—losing his balance and toppling forward onto Eren’s chest. They both groaned painfully.

Their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling.

Armin's hands gently caressed Eren's thighs before he carefully opened the bottle with trembling fingers, pouring a small amount onto his palm.

'Fuck.' Eren's breath hitched, as Armin reached between his thighs and pushed one finger in—followed too quickly by a second.

Letting Eren get used to his fingers, he slowed down—savouring every moan, every squirm beneath him as he took his time.

Eren was panting, hips twitching impatiently—already so worked up he could barely keep still.

'You're doing so well,' Armin whispered against his ear, inserting another finger.

Eren gasped, loud and shaky—mouth falling open, chest rising fast, hips jerking at every movement.

As soon as Armin pulled his fingers out, Eren's legs quickly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

'Hurry,' Eren begged, voice rough and needy.

Armin positioned himself, hands trembling as he guided himself in—slow at first, careful, until Eren gasped and clung tighter.

The heat was overwhelming.

Armin stayed still for a moment, waiting for Eren to adjust—but his hips had a mind of their own.

He started to move.

Eren let out a particularly high-pitched moan that made Armin freeze—panic rising as he worried that he might've hurt him.

'Are you okay?' he asked in a breathy whisper, leaning in close.

Another moan slipped from Eren as he nodded, too wound up to speak. He whimpered, clearly frustrated by the sudden stop.

Armin started moving again, faster now. The bed creaked beneath them, echoing between the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Their flushed bodies moved together, sweat glistening in the candlelight.

The rhythm was messy, a little awkward—but Eren seemed unbothered. He was too busy whining Armin's name.

Nails dug into Armin's back, leaving red marks behind on his pale skin. The sting only made him thrust harder.

Eren’s eager moans were like music to Armin’s ears, filling him with satisfaction to know he could make him cry out from pleasure instead of nightmares.

The air in the room felt heavy, heat radiating off their skin. Somewhere behind them, the windows began to fog.

Eren came too early, but Armin didn't stop—too caught up in his own pleasure to notice. Eren whimpered beneath him, clearly overstimulated, but still didn't tell him to stop.

Instead, he bit Armin's shoulder—hard enough for him to cry out Eren's name in response.

It wasn't long before he came too, deep inside him.

Their hips stuttered—both of them gasping, cheeks flushed a deep, burning red.

Slowly, Armin pulled out. He pressed a soft kiss to Eren's forehead before lowering his shaking body, resting his head on Eren's heaving chest. His own breaths still uneven.

Eren fell asleep quickly.

Armin gently brushed Eren's damp hair out of his face, so he could take a good look at him again. His expression was still tired, but softer now—a stark contrast to his earlier distress.

He hadn't looked this peaceful in ages.

Closing his eyes, Armin listened to the steady rhythm of Eren's heartbeat beneath his cheek.

All he wanted was to cherish this moment, the closeness he held with Eren.

I want to stay with him.

In that moment, he made a decision.

I'll be on his side. No matter what.

That night, even after Armin had managed to ease his anguish for a while, Eren still had nightmares.

He jolted awake, clutching his chest. Beside him, Armin left out a soft whimper at the sudden movement, but it wasn't enough to wake him up.

Eren took a moment, trying to compose himself, breathing heavy and heart racing from what he just saw.

No. Those weren't nightmares.

They were memories of the future—a scenery he hadn't seen before.

Everything had changed—would change.

It was Armin. He was the reason.

'My god… Armin,' he muttered under his breath.

His eyes lingered on Armin—still sleeping so peacefully, blissfully ignorant.

Horror spread through him. He sat up slowly, the bed creaking under him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and he sank his head into his hands.

'Fuck, what have you done..?'

Chapter Text

When Armin woke up, Eren was gone—the sheets beside him already cold.

He let out a sigh and sat up slowly, dragging a hand through his hair—still tangled from the night before. Reeking of sweat, he desperately needed a shower. If he was quick, maybe he could still catch Eren at breakfast.

Still half-asleep, he threw on some clothes and slipped out into the hallway, heading for the showers. Halfway there, he rounded a corner too fast and nearly bumped into Eren who must've had the same idea as him—hair still damp, cheeks flushed from the steam.

Their eyes met.

Armin opened his mouth to greet him, but Eren spoke first.

'Didn't expect you to be up yet.'

His voice came out raspy and nervous—almost evasive. The way he refused to look at Armin, darting his eyes away, only made it more obvious.

Armin didn't get a chance to answer before Eren cut him off once again.

'I'll see you at breakfast,' he said quickly, then turned on his heel.

And just like that, he was gone again.

For a moment, Armin just stood still, blinking slowly as he watched Eren retreat down the hall.

Weird, he thought. But it wasn't the usual kind of weirdness he had grown accustomed to.

His mind flicked back to last night.

Could it be that…

The way Eren looked at him with those raw, desperate eyes. How quickly Armin had lost himself in the moment, chasing his own pleasure.

Maybe he shouldn't have.

He gave his head a sharp shake, trying to rid himself of the thought. By now, he should know better than to expect Eren to behave like a normal person. It was probably nothing. Just Eren being Eren.

Still, an odd feeling ate away at his chest, one he couldn't ignore.

Fresh from the shower, Armin stepped into the dining hall and spotted Eren right away—already halfway through his breakfast. He plopped down into the seat next to him—too close—leaving barely an inch between their thighs.

The sudden presence made Eren jump and drop his spoon, which clattered against the tray.

Not a single word was exchanged between them.

Armin told himself not to take the silence personally, but that same odd feeling returned, gnawing at him all over again.

Across the table, Sasha and Connie made boisterous conversation, laughing and completely oblivious. Their noise only made the tension between him and Eren more obvious. They were excited and animated as they exchanged plans for how to spend their free time that day, even inviting Armin along—who only waved them off with a faint smile.

When Eren finished eating, he just sat there, staring at Armin with a strange, blank look on his face that he couldn't place.

Something about it made Armin nervous.

He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heat of Eren's gaze as it followed his every movement—how he lifted his spoon, the slow way he chewed his oatmeal.

Swallowing hard, he set his cutlery down with a sharp clink and turned swiftly to face Eren.

Still, Eren didn’t react. His expression didn't falter in the slightest. Without a word, he stood, grabbed his tray, and walked off.

Armin pushed himself up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he left his half-eaten breakfast behind. He couldn’t let this go.

He was forced into an awkward jog just to catch up with Eren who moved with a quick, almost frantic pace.

'You’ve been looking at me weird all morning,' Armin said, slightly out of breath as they trotted down the hallway.

Eren didn’t reply. Just kept walking, his long legs carrying him forward at an ever-increasing speed.

For a second, neither of them spoke. Then Armin blurted, 'Look, I—I’m sorry if I—' he panted, tripping over the words, unsure how to even begin. He took a deep, steadying breath and tried again. 'I’m sorry. I took advantage of you yesterday.'

Hit by a wave of guilt, he dropped his gaze, fixating on his boots.

'I didn't mean to—'

The words choked off as Eren stopped in his tracks, so abruptly Armin nearly collided with him.

'You're fine,' Eren said with a sigh, shaking his head. 'I wanted it. You didn't do anything wrong.' His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

'Then why are you being so weird?' Armin mumbled, taking a small step back. His breathing was still unsteady.

Eren's eyes narrowed, brows creasing as his tone shifted into something more serious. 'We need to talk.'

Then, he shot a sharp glance down the hallway—almost paranoid—as if making sure no one else was nearby.

He froze.

Frowning, Armin followed Eren's gaze, and his eyes landed on Floch, who was walking in their direction.

When he finally passed them, there was a peculiar look on his face, and his gaze lingered on Eren for a second too long.

Neither of them said anything—just waited until the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance.

Once he was gone, Eren let out a relieved sigh, like he had been holding his breath the whole time.

Before Armin could react, Eren grabbed his wrist and yanked—hard enough to make him wince.

He stumbled, nearly losing his balance as Eren dragged along. A sharp pain shot up his arm, and part of him wanted to protest, but something held him back—too frightened by Eren’s erratic behaviour.

'What?' Armin's voice cracked, thick with disbelief.

They were back in their room—door locked, voices hushed.

'I'll be helping you commit the Rumbling…?' he trailed off, eyes wide. The mattress groaned as he sank onto the edge, trying to process what he'd just heard. Blinking slowly, he looked up at Eren, praying he'd say it was a joke—that he was just screwing with him.

But Eren's face was clear as day. No trace of humour. No hint of deceit. Just brutal, unwavering sincerity.

Eren wouldn’t die.

The Rumbling would be completed.

One hundred percent.

And somehow, it would be because of him?

Armin exhaled shakily, trying to gather himself—but the revelation just kept circling his mind.

'This is fucked up.’ The words slipped out before he could stop them. He rubbed at his temples, then dropped his head into his hands, elbows digging into his knees.

Eren didn't move. Just stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands shoved deep in his pockets, like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Silence filled the heavy air.

Armin lowered his hands and stared at the floor. The longer he sat with it, the more unreal it felt. It was too much. Too overwhelming.

A small, dry laugh escaped his lips. 'I guess that's what it takes to stay by your side,' he muttered under his breath, thinking back to last night.

But Eren caught it. His head lifted slightly, posture straightening.

'What do you mean by that?' he asked, blinking at Armin, dumbfounded.

'I told you countless times before, didn't I?' Armin said, louder now, voice laced with frustration. 'That I'd help you.'

He let himself fall back onto the bed with an exasperated groan. Staring at the ceiling, he wasn't sure how —or why—he came to accept this so quickly. Maybe it was just resignation. The Rumbling was going to happen, with or without him.

What's another twenty percent?

What's another twenty percent if it meant Eren lived?

So I flattened everything.

Eren’s words echoed through him. He remembered how he’d said it—so casually, like he was talking about dinner plans or the weather.

And Armin couldn’t even blame him. Not really. Not when he’d found himself lying awake at night, spiralling through the same thoughts.

Wondering if it would be easier if he just… didn’t exist. If he disappeared from this world. This harsh, unjust world they’d been born into—a world that hated them for simply being alive.

He’d imagined, more than once, what it would be like if that merciless place were the one to disappear instead. If all those people were the ones exiled and eradicated—like they’d never been there at all.

Then maybe, just maybe, they could finally be free. Free to explore the world the way they used to dream about.

Eren broke the silence.

'What are you thinking about?' he asked carefully, watching Armin's face as he shifted his weight to his other foot.

'Wanting to erase others from this world,' Armin admitted, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. 'I've felt that way before too.'

Eren didn't respond. Whether he was too stunned to speak or just searching for the right words, Armin couldn’t tell. He looked like he wanted to say something—but not a single word came out.

'I’ve made up my mind,' Armin went on. 'I’m on your side. No matter what.'

His voice came out steadier than expected. 'We promised we'd stay together, didn't we?'

Eren padded over and dropped onto the bed with a graceless thump. He lay back beside Armin, turning his head to study his face.

'I don’t understand you.' His voice was low, a little awed.

Armin turned to meet his eyes.

'You seem… oddly collected,' Eren said, a nervous edge creeping into his tone, like he was bracing for Armin to break down—scream, cry, something.

And Eren wasn't wrong. He did feel calm. Maybe it hadn't sunk in yet. Or maybe he'd already succumbed to the Rumbling being inevitable.

Wordlessly, he reached for Eren's hand, bringing it slowly to his lips.

'A promise is a promise,' he murmured, closing his eyes as he pressed a kiss to Eren's knuckles.

However, Armin wouldn't stay calm for long.

The horror began to settle in slowly—until, all at once, his mind unravelled.

At dinner, he didn't touch his food. Just sat there, staring at his plate, zoning out while the lively hum at the dining hall faded into background noise.

'You alright?' Eren asked quietly, concern evident in his voice. 'You aren't eating.'

He couldn't. Not now. Not after Eren's word had finally sunk in.

The weight of them twisted in his gut, making him nauseous. His imagination ran wild—conjuring images far too vivid and gruesome—flashes of destruction, ruined cities, screams, rivers of blood. The realization hit like a punch: he'd be responsible for all of it.

Armin still couldn't quite fathom that it would be at his hand.

Thinking about how useless he had always been, disgust and guilt crept up on him. All the times his friends had to come save him—too weak and scrawny himself to fight back—how he could never return the favour.

Even when he tried, he only made it worse. Much worse.

He couldn't bear to look at Eren. His eyes stayed locked on the untouched plate, appalled with himself, feeling like he didn't deserve to eat—like it'd be wasted on someone as incompetent as him.

'I'm not hungry,' he muttered quietly.

'You should still eat,' Mikasa chimed in, gentle but firm.

He tried.

But he only managed a few bites. Swallowing was difficult—the food sat in his stomach like a brick. He struggled to keep it down. Then, without warning, the spoon slipped from his hand and clattered against the table, loud enough to make both Eren and Mikasa look over.

Trembling hands covered his mouth, his eyes wide, and Eren quickly moved.

Without a word, he slid an arm under Armin’s elbow and helped him up—carefully, like he was handling something fragile, something that might break at the slightest touch.

Mikasa opened her mouth to say something, but Eren gave her a small, dismissive wave, mouthing, I've got him.

Her gaze bounced between them, hesitation flickering across her face. Then Eren placed a hand gently at Armin’s waist, guiding him out. She got up and trailed after them, eyes lingering on the way Eren's fingers traced delicately along Armin’s side.

Together, they left the dining hall and slipped into the quiet corridor, their footsteps the only sound echoing in the tense air.

A handful of minutes slipped by as they walked in silence.

Armin stared straight ahead—silent and pale—feeling the colour drain from his face as he tried to keep the sickness at bay with small, shallow breaths. Shaky puffs of air hit his hands, still clamped tightly over his mouth.

The nausea only worsened, climbing fast as that vile taste crept up the back of his throat. It hit too hard, too suddenly—he wrenched free from Eren and dashed away, barely making it outside before collapsing to his knees and retching into the dirt.

His stomach emptied in shallow waves, vomit splattering across the ground.

Without hesitation, Mikasa sank to her knees beside him, rubbing slow, soothing circles between his shoulder blades. Her touch was warm. He shuddered with each gasping breath, gagging until there was nothing left but bile and saliva.

Eren hovered nearby, guilt etched across his face, cringing at every wet gag that tore through the air.

When there was nothing left to throw up, Armin slumped forward—still heaving, still gasping even as his stomach gave him nothing. His chest rose in heavy jerks with each dry retch. Every cough scraped his throat raw, acid still burning at the edges. A sour, bitter taste lingered his tongue.

Mikasa gently tilted his face up, meeting his reddened, tear-filled eyes. She wiped the corner of his mouth with her sleeve, completely unfazed by his soiled state.

'All done?' she asked gently, her voice warm with concern.

He gave the smallest nod, eyes flicking away from hers as he struggled to suppress the coughs still caught in his throat.

'Are you gonna tell us what’s wrong?' she pressed, voice still soft—but firmer now.

'I’ll take him from here,' Eren cut in, not letting Armin answer.

Mikasa looked up, a stern glare in her eyes, clearly displeased with him.

Unsteady, Armin swayed on his feet as he tried to stand, dizziness washing over him, and Eren was quick to catch him. One arm slipped around his back, the other hooked under his knees, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

'We will talk about this,’ Mikasa said, her tone turning colder as she addressed Eren.

For a second, her eyes lingered on the way Eren held Armin—small and vulnerable in his arms. Her face tensed, something unreadable flickering across it, before she spun on her heel, footsteps crunching heavily against the gravel in agitation.

Armin's chest tightened with guilt.

It felt wrong. He didn’t want to keep this from her.

But he had no choice.

He nuzzled into Eren’s collarbone, still fighting the dizziness as his breathing finally began to steady. He hoped the stench of stomach acid on his breath didn’t bother him.

Eren carried him back to their room. At the door, he fumbled with the handle but managed to shove it open. Inside, he made his way to Armin’s bed and gently lowered him onto the mattress. The blanket was pulled up, tucked around him with surprising care.

Then Eren leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

'Get some sleep,' he whispered, voice tender and concerned, and started to turn away.

But Armin’s hand shot out and clutched the end of his shirt with quivering fingers, his eyes welling up with tears as he stared up at him.

'I'm sorry,' he choked out, voice cracking—raw and thin.

Eren crouched beside the bed, a frown of worry spreading across his face as Armin curled in on himself. He hadn't even realized how small he'd made himself—knees tucked to his chest, his whole body shaking. 

'I-I'm sorry,' he said again. 'I failed you.'

There were no sobs—just the hollow ache in his chest and tears rolling silently down his cheeks.

'I—I'm useless, I couldn't come up with a solution.' He buried his face in the blanket, muffling his voice, 'It's all my fault now.'

'Hey.' Eren shushed him gently. 'You're not useless. You should know that by now. And it's not your fault either. Got that?' He spoke with steady and firm assurance.

'How can you be so calm?' The words slipped out before Armin could stop them, and he immediately regretted it—pulling the blanket away from his eyes. He glanced at Eren, worried he'd see him break too.

'I'm not,' Eren admitted. The words came out flat—drained of emotion. Just tired. He dropped onto the edge of the bed, placing a comforting hand on Armin's shoulder.

'I guess I've become kinda numb. Like I've already come to terms with it? I-I dunno, I've been dealing with it for a while already.' Eren paused, drawing a slow breath before continuing. 'Besides… I shouldn't have dumped it on you like that. You didn't deserve that.'

Eren's thumb moved between his shoulder blades, circling in a soothing motion.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this—' Eren kept going. Something erratic had crept into his voice, the words coming out more rapidly. 'I just didn't want to be alone in this again. And you're the only one I can trust.'

He made eye contact then, and the sheer intensity in his eyes caught in Armin's chest, stealing his breath for a second.

'I don't expect you to fix anything, or stay composed or—or whatever. I just…' Eren trailed off, struggling for the right words.

'I just want you to stay by my side, for as long as I'm here,' he said, voice cracking at the end.

With a timid nod, Armin murmured, 'I promised you.'

The comforting rhythm of Eren's hand paused for a second. Armin glanced up just in time to catch the shift in his expression—something fond settling on his face. Then his hand trailed up to Armin's shoulder, giving it a few hearty pats.

'Y'know,' Eren said quietly, his face brightening—though a serious edge remained. 'You had me worried earlier, with how unfazed you were.'

Armin didn't answer. He wasn't breaking apart anymore, but still felt a bit unsteady.

Eren's hand started moving again, rubbing slow circles across his back.

'I didn't recognize you like that,' he said, frowning. 'I mean… yeah, you say some fucked up shit sometimes. But that was weird, even for you.'

Eren hesitated, drawing in a shaky breath. He looked torn, like he didn't dare to say the next words.

'It kinda scared me, the way you so quickly accepted it.'

Gently, Eren's fingers pushed aside the hair clinging to Armin's forehead. Leaning in, he placed a kiss on his there, his lips lingering for a moment. They brushed against Armin's skin as he whispered, 'You don't give up like that.'

Eren's face remained close to Armin's for a few more seconds before he slowly straightened up, the bed creaking softly as he stood.

Once again, Armin prevented him from leaving—-catching the edge of his sleeve.

'Wait.'

Eren stopped, turning back with a questioning hum.

Armin let go and scooted back against the wall, freeing up some room on the mattress. He patted the now empty spot beside him.

'You just said you wanted to stay with me,' he said, voice still small and fragile, but steadier now.

Eren let out a quiet laugh. 'Yeah, I guess I did.'

Taking a moment to kick off his boots and pull his shirt over his head, Eren climbed into the bed beside him. Neither of them said a word as Eren wrapped his arms around Armin, holding him close to his chest.

The next morning, when Armin woke up, Eren was still there.

Armin hadn't meant to eavesdrop.

But his ear was pressed to the door all the same, breath held as voices rose and broke apart behind it—Mikasa's sharp, Eren's low and tight.

They didn't sound too happy.

'Last week too!' Mikasa snapped. 'Neither of you are telling me anything!'

Armin thought he could hear jealousy in her voice.

Eren said something back—too soft to make out. Armin couldn't catch the words, but he didn't need to. The tone said enough.

'Fucking jerk!'

Suddenly, the door flew open.

Armin stumbled forward, having put too much weight against it—nearly colliding with Mikasa. His eyes went wide when they met hers. He quickly regained his balance, taking a small step back.

Surprise briefly flickered across her face, then her gaze narrowed, her eyebrows pulling into a frown.

'Were you listening?' she snapped, voice sharp and accusing.

'No…' Armin said, unable to keep the guilt out of his voice. The lie tasted weak the moment it left his mouth.

'Give me a break.' It was barely more than a mutter—like she hadn't meant for him to hear it, but it still came out loud enough.

'Out of my way,' she spat, voice rising, as she shoved past him in the narrow hallway—her shoulder slamming into Armin, knocking him into the wall.

A sharp pain shot up his arm, and he winced. But he didn't say anything—afraid of upsetting her further. He watched as she stomped down the hall.

Shit. She was really mad.

Armin slipped into the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click. He slumped back against it, spotting Eren by the window—arms crossed, back turned.

He didn't move. Didn't say anything, just kept staring ahead with his arms over his chest.

'What did you say to her?' Armin asked, jaw tightening. He made no effort to hide the frustration in his voice.

Eren was never one to treat Mikasa fairly. The way he brushed her off so easily—with that cold, dismissive tone that had only gotten worse throughout the years—now bordered on cruel.

Like her distress didn't matter to him in the slightest.

'She needed to mind her business,' Eren said flatly.

Armin huffed, folding his arms. 'Would it kill you to treat her with some dignity for once?'

Eren whipped around, fixing Armin with a glare. 'You're one to talk,' he sneered.

'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

Armin pushed off the door and stepped forward, squaring his shoulders.

Eren didn't answer—just stalked closer and closer until he got right up in Armin's face, barely inches away. Armin refused to budge, even as Eren loomed over him with a dark scowl.

'You're as much of a piece of shit as I am,' Eren spat, shoving harshly at his shoulder.

The force knocked Armin off balance, and he staggered back. Eren followed him step for step—until he hit the wall.

He couldn't tell if Eren was trying to intimidate or hurt him.

'You're keeping Mikasa in the dark too,' Eren added, voice low and mean—hitting exactly where it hurt.

Armin rubbed his shoulder, shooting a venomous glare at Eren. 'Of course I am!' he snapped. 'You want me to tell her what we are gonna do? To be the one to shatter her world!?'

'Maybe she would be actually able to put an end to this,' Eren fired back, his gaze narrowing, face distorted into something ugly—something hostile. 'Unlike you, who only made everything worse.'

The words hit him hard—like a slap in the face.

Armin flinched.

He hated how true it was. Hated that Eren had said it out loud.

'I know that, dammit!' he shouted, voice cracking on the last word, fists twitching with the urge to hit something.

Mikasa wouldn't have given up. Wouldn't have accepted their fate as easily as he had. She sure as hell wouldn't have had a hand in the Rumbling.

His dropped his gaze and tried to pull away, but Eren pressed a hand tightly against his chest, keeping him pinned.

'So don't get all high and mighty with me,' Eren murmured, warm breath brushing Armin's ear.

Then, his expression changed and a hint of smugness threaded his voice.

'But it's okay. We're on the same level, you and me.'

Armin blinked, confused by the sudden turn. The closeness of Eren's voice sent a chill down his spine.

'Don't be mad at me,' Eren said, voice wavering just slightly—almost pleading. Like he didn't want Armin to leave him.

A crooked smirk tugged at his lips, one that didn't reach his eyes.

'You hypocrite.' His voice cracked—and so did his act.

Before Armin could react, Eren’s lips crashed against his in a rough, desperate kiss. Hands cradled the back of his head, holding him in place—giving him no chance to pull away.

Part of him wanted to shove Eren away—the words still stung, sharp and fresh.

But a louder part of him wanted him—needed him.

So he kissed him back, matching his passion.

'I’m sorry.' Eren broke away, the confident facade crumbling completely.

That same pained look crossed his face—the one he’d worn when he sobbed into Armin’s arms last week.

'Get on your knees,’ Armin commanded, voice steady. 

Eren blinked, a puzzled look crossing his face.

'If you're really sorry,' Armin said, slower this time, 'then get on your knees.'

'Do you want me to beg for forgiveness?’ Eren asked, slowly kneeling to the floor—oddly obedient. He looked up with wide, almost innocent eyes, clearly not getting the hint.

Armin groaned, fumbling with his belt. 'My god.’ The frustration was thick in his voice. 'You are so fucking dense.’

The buckle came loose and his pants slid down with a rustle, revealing the outline of his cock straining against the front of his underwear.

Eren's face hovered just a few inches from his crotch, a flush creeping across his cheeks. When the realization seemed to hit, he perked up a little—the last hint of sorrow replaced by excitement. He tilted his head up, eyes flicking up to meet Armin's.

Cute, Armin thought.

Armin didn't need to say a word. Eren pulled down his underwear of his own accord, letting out a soft, almost sweet giggle. Not wasting a single second, he leaned in and eagerly took Armin into his mouth—all at once. The tip hit the back of his throat, triggering his gag reflex. He choked.

'Fuck.' Armin inhaled sharply, throwing his head back against the wall. Unable to resist, he grabbed Eren's head, fingers tangling in his hair.

Eren's mouth was wet and hot around him, tongue working messily. Every little movement had Armin quivering a bit more.

For someone who had just lost his virginity, Eren sure acted like knew what he was doing. Even though his technique was sloppy, his enthusiasm made up for it.

'Suck harder.' Armin panted, knees threatening to give out and his fingers curled tighter in Eren's hair.

At this rate, he wasn’t going to last long.

Soft moans and strings of spit spilled from Eren's mouth, cheeks hollowing around Armin's cock. His teeth grazed the skin just enough to make Armin whimper. God, he was close.

He pulled Eren closer by his hair, fighting the urge to thrust.

Without much warning, Armin came—messy and hard—spilling cum down Eren's throat. Some of it escaped, dripping from the corner of his mouth.

'Swallow,' Armin ordered, voice wrecked and unsteady.

He had never been the type to take the lead—too meek, too insecure. So he wasn't sure what came over him, speaking to Eren with that kind of confidence.

Either way, he enjoyed it—the way Eren gave in so easily, obeying him without question.

And he seemed to be really into it too, throat working eagerly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed it all. With a wet pop, he pulled back, glancing up at Armin with those wide eyes again.

Armin let out a breathy chuckle and patted Eren's head.

'Good boy.'

Eren grinned—way too pleased with himself—as he licked his lips clean, leaving a soft, glistening sheen behind.

‘You missed a spot,’ Armin teased, a little breathless, brushing Eren’s chin gently to wipe away the last remnants of cum.

Eren let out a soft whine, grabbing his wrist so he could suck his fingers clean.

A lewd glimmer lit his eyes as they made eye contact—and all Armin could do was blush.

Mikasa's pace was fast and erratic as she rushed outside, tears stinging her eyes. She tugged her scarf higher over her quivering lips—she didn't want to be spotted by anyone.

She didn't even care where she ended up—she just needed to get somewhere far away. The gravel path curved, giving way to overgrown grass as she reached a field.

'Mikasa?'

The familiar voice snapped her out of her trance. She froze, startled, eyes darting to the fence where Jean sat in the shade of a tree, face creased with concern.

'Is everything okay?’ he asked, pushing himself up with a soft groan.

'Yeah,’ she replied, trying to sound composed. But the high-pitched crack in her voice betrayed her. 'Just on a walk.’

Jean tried to catch her eyes, but she kept her gaze fixed on her shoes.

'You don’t sound fine,’ he said plainly. His fingers brushed her chin, tilting her head upward. Her scarf slipped down with the motion. 'But it's okay if you don’t want to talk about it.’

She didn't acknowledge his words. Instead, she stepped back and sank to the ground beneath the tree, leaning against the trunk. Her hand brushed against something—a sketchbook.

'Is this yours?' she asked, genuine curiosity slipping through as she glanced up at him. Without waiting for an answer, she started flipping through it.

'Hey! Don’t just go through it!’ Jean said, clearly trying to play it cool—but the embarrassment in his voice was impossible to miss.

Mikasa let out a soft, amused chuckle, letting the pages flutter past her fingers. It was filled with all kinds of drawings, from half-finished landscapes and random sketches to detailed portraits.

'Quite the portfolio you have.’ Her voice was light and teasing, but she meant every word, impressed by the careful attention to detail in his lines.

Then one drawing caught her eye. She turned the page back, and she took a closer look. A woman with long back hair stared back at her.

Her breath caught. 

It looked an awful lot like her. 

Oh. 

So that was why.

Jean dropped beside her with a dramatic thump, snatching the book from her hands and promptly slamming it shut.

'Sorry,' Mikasa mumbled, retreating behind her scarf. There she went and did it again. Always unable to mind her own business.

Frowning, her gaze landed on the grass at her feet.

This doesn't concern you.

Eren's voice echoed in her mind.

Jean let out a small huff, his cheeks flushing a deep red.

'Do you think I'm nosy?' Mikasa asked, voice small. She almost didn't dare to ask.

Jean blinked at her. 'No…' he said, shifting into a more comfortable position. 'If anything you could afford to show more interest in other people.'

His answer was honest, but not unkind.

She lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes. Something in Jean's expression softened.

'Although I would have liked if you didn't go through it without asking,' he said, giving her a light scowl and lightly tapping the closed sketchbook on her head in a playful manner.

A small smile tugged at her lips. She pulled her scarf up higher to hide it.

Jean tilted his head, watching her. 'Why did you ask?'

She didn't respond.

'Does it… have to with why you looked like you were about to cry?' he pressed, though his voice stayed careful.

Mikasa let out a heavy sigh, tucking her knees close to her chest. She didn't really want to talk about it, but something about Jean made her feel like it was okay to share. 

'I had a fight with Eren…' she admitted.

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, and her breath hitched at the unexpected touch. For some reason, she didn't mind. It even felt nice. Like someone actually saw her, her pain not dismissed for once.

'He's shutting everyone out,' she went on, ignoring the flush creeping into her cheeks. 'Everyone but Armin.'

Her voice started to waver and Jean gave her a small, comforting squeeze.

'And Armin… he won't let me in either.'

To be fair, Armin wasn't as bad. He still spoke to her the same, still treated her with that same gentle manner. But she could still feel the subtle distance—the pity in his gaze. 

Like he was keeping something from her. 

Like she wasn't allowed to be part of whatever he shared with Eren.

The exclusion hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Her throat tightened, each word coming out shakier than the last.

'I just wanted to be by his side.'

She buried her face in Jean’s chest, clutching his shirt in tight fists—soaking the fabric with her tears.

Jean didn’t say anything, just held her, one hand tracing slow circles across her back—the rhythm soothing, enough to calm her down.

He didn’t press her, thank god, and shifted to lighter topics instead.

They spent the rest of the afternoon making quiet conversation beneath the tree. Mikasa nodded along, soothed by the soft rumble of his voice—nearly dozing off while she listened to him speak.

Jean didn’t seem to mind. He let her lean against him, seemingly enjoying the moment just as much as she did.

For the first time in days, she felt content.

They'd been assigned to guard duty—Hange had mentioned something about another ship from Marley arriving soon. Now, they found themselves alone on a coastal watchtower, gazing into the endless horizon. The ocean remained still and empty, broken only by the soft whisper of wind and the occasional cry of a passing bird.

'So, what's the plan?' Armin asked, staring down at the calm waves, elbows resting on the railing.

'If Zeke and I touch, I can activate the Rumbling,’ Eren began, his voice steady. 'Because of his royal blood.’

At first, Armin tried to follow along, but the longer Eren talked, the further his mind wandered. He nodded softly, pretending to listen—barely taking in a single word.

All this talk about royal blood made him think back—to that meeting where they discussed plans for Historia to inherit the Beast Titan. He couldn't even recall the details anymore. Just the image of Eren shooting out of his chair, suddenly shouting. It stood out vividly in his mind.

With the memory came shame. Shame for ignoring Eren's cries, blaming it on nightmares and scuffed memories. He had figured it would be temporary, that there was no need to intervene. That Eren didn't need him.

How wrong he was.

Armin hated how passive his younger self had been.

Fuck. He'd always been such a useless piece of shit.

You're as much of a piece of shit as I am.

Eren's words rang through his head—proof he hadn’t changed much in that regard.

A quiet chuckle escaped his lips and he ran a hand through his hair, a slight grin tugging at the corner his mouth. Somehow, he was weirdly amused by the consistency of it all.

Once a piece of shit, always a piece of shit.

A sudden movement startled Armin—Eren was waving a hand in front of his face.

'You were grinning at nothing,' he pointed out, tilting his head as concern flickered in his eyes. 'That creepy smile only happens when you think about fucked up stuff.'

'Huh?' Armin blinked and straightened up quickly, heat rising to his cheeks. He quickly composed himself.

'I wasn't smiling weirdly,' he said dismissively.

'Were you even listening?' Eren asked, raising a brow.

'Yeah…' Armin lied—blatantly at that.

Eren rolled his eyes and let out a disgruntled sigh. 'You weren't,' he said flatly.

‘Sorry,’ Armin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

'Anyway.' Eren leaned closer, not breaking eye-contact—like he was making sure he had Armin’s full attention this time. 'Floch will help us.'

Armin's face twitched, unable to suppress the scowl twisting his mouth.

'I know you two don't get along,' Eren said, not missing the sour look on Armin’s face. 'But we need him to set up a meeting with Yelena, remember? They're not letting me have any contact with her.'

'I could've done that for you.' Armin scoffed, lips pulling into a pout as he folded his arms.

Eren ignored the comment. 'Once all that has been arranged, I'll leave to infiltrate Marley.'

The playfulness drained from Armin’s face.

'I'll send a letter,' Eren said, with a warm reassurance in his tone.

'You better,' Armin teased—though his chest tightened at the thought of being apart for so long.

'And then,' Eren continued, waving a hand through the air, 'you come up with a plan for the Survey Corps to get me and Zeke out of there.'

'Huh?' Armin's head shot up, paying closer attention now. 'Wait, what?'

Eren shrugged. 'I don't know what you will come up with either, but I have faith in that brain of yours.'

He reached out to pat Armin's shoulder.

'I know you can work it out, Armin,' he added, warm tenderness returning to his voice.

Armin didn't respond. He closed his eyes and listened to the soft crashing of the waves. He pushed against the railing and leaned back a little, releasing tension in his neck he hadn't even realized he was holding.

He inhaled deeply, shoulders easing as the fresh scent of the ocean washed over him. It always helped to calm him down. He enjoyed being here with Eren.

Last week had filled Armin with anxiety. Ever since Eren and Mikasa's fight, she had been avoiding them—ditching them at dinner, sitting with Sasha and Connie instead, or more often Jean.

Armin ran into her in the hallway once—only for her to promptly turn around and walk away without a word. He had tried to get her attention, wanting to apologize, but she hadn't given him the chance.

And lately, Armin couldn't help but notice the odd glances being thrown their way—mostly at Eren, though he received some as well. Jean's were by far the nastiest, but there was something chilling in Sasha and Connie's expressions too.

Clearly, Mikasa hadn't kept quiet. And he didn't blame her one bit.

It made him feel isolated.

Placing his elbows back on the railing, his eyes drifted down to the ground far beneath them. He wondered what kind of faces they would wear after the Rumbling.

'Hey, Armin?'

Armin perked up.

'What do you say we go for a swim instead?' A playful grin tugged at Eren's lips as he pointed his thumb toward the shimmering water.

'Huh? But we're supposed to be on duty,' Armin replied, hesitant. 'We can't just abandon our post. What if something happens?'

Eren shrugged. 'Nothing will come,' he said with a wink, 'I'd know.'

It didn’t take much more convincing for Armin to cave in.

They took off running down the stairs, all giddy, like a pair of children about to do something mischievous. Eren barrelled ahead, going so fast it felt like a game to see who’d reach the bottom first.

By the time they made it down, Eren was practically vibrating with excitement. He threw himself into the sea without bothering to undress first–soaking himself from head to toe. 

Whereas Armin took his time—peeling off his shirt, then his pants, folding them with care before setting them on the bottom step—leaving him standing there in just his underwear.

'Pervert!' Eren yelled from the water, hands cupped around his mouth.

Armin rolled his eyes. 'At least I'll have dry clothes.' He huffed, trying to appear cool despite the heat rising to his face.

Eren started wading back to the shore, lifting the hem of his soaked shirt—it clung so tightly to his stomach that the outline of his muscles showed through.

'Good idea,' he said—then immediately began to struggle with his pants, hopping awkwardly as the wet fabric gripped his legs. He nearly toppled over, cursing under his breath before he finally was able to yank them off.

He didn't bother folding them, just dumped the dripping bundle on top of Armin's neat pile—soaking it as well. A stupidly smug grin appeared on his face, like he was proud of himself.

'Asshole.'

'What did you call me?' Eren's grin grew even wider, stepping closer to Armin.

'Asshole,' Armin repeated, shivering. He couldn't tell if it was from the cold air, or Eren's closeness.

Then, all of a sudden, Eren slid his arms under Armin's legs and back, scooping him up like he weighed nothing. Startled, Armin let out a yelp, his eyes widened, as he realized what Eren was planning. Oh no.

'Let's see about that.' Eren smirked as he took off toward the water, carrying Armin with him.

'Don't you dare fucking drop me.' Armin clung tightly to Eren's shoulders.

Eren burst out laughing. 'I thought you loved the ocean,' he said, mischief lacing his voice as he picked up speed—then spun around and hurled him into the sea with all his might.

Armin’s scream was cut off by a sharp splash as he made impact with the surface. The cold water knocked the air right out of his lungs.

'You didn't say it was so cold!' Armin shrieked as he emerged, gasping for air and hands clutching at his shoulders. Water dripped from his bangs into his eyes as he shook himself off, staring daggers at Eren.

'That's what you get for calling me an asshole!'

Armin sputtered, eyes narrowing. 'Oh, you're dead.'

He waded forward, fighting against the pull of the waves while Eren laughed, splashing water in his direction in a playful attempt to keep him at bay.

Once he was close enough, he lunged at Eren—who wasn’t ready to catch him—sending them both tumbling onto the sand with a loud thud.

Eren let out a groan, the impact rough enough to send pain through his back—even with the sand softening the fall. Uneven patches of sand clung to his damp skin.

Armin had landed on top of him, chest heaving from running around. Droplets of water fell from his hair onto Eren’s face.

Their faces were merely inches apart, breaths mingling in the space between them.

'Got you,' Armin said breathlessly, the words catching somewhere between a laugh and a gasp.

Breathing hard, their eyes locked—and for a moment, neither of them moved.

Until Eren lifted his head and pressed his lips to Armin’s. His arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, their hips slotting together as his sand-covered fingers explored bare skin.

Eren gently tugged at the edge of Armin’s underwear—and, as if fate had it out for them, a large wave crashed over their heads, submerging them completely. Salt water filled Armin’s nose and mouth, choking him.

He rolled off Eren, both of them coughing.

On his hands and knees, Armin hacked up the last of the seawater—only to glance up and spot their superiors approaching in the distance.

Shit.

‘Ah, youth,’ Hange said wistfully when they were in hearing distance.

‘Horny brats,’ Levi spat, a look of disgust crossing his face.

‘You’re off duty now!" Hange's voice was full of fake enthusiasm as they clapped their hands together. 'But I guess you already decided that for yourselves.’

Their heads snapped up, faces painted with identical guilty-yet-innocent expressions—like kids caught stealing from the cookie jar.

‘We’re not expecting any ships anymore.’ Levi barely spared them a glance. 'Get dressed.'

Eren whipped his head side to side, trying to shed water from his hair—sending droplets flying in their direction.

Levi jumped back. 'Oi! Watch what you're doing, you dog.' He hissed.

Hange let out a bark of laughter. ‘Now hurry up and go put your clothes back on, you heathens.’