Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Armin didn’t really know how he mustered the energy to drive here.

He let out a small, pitiful sigh, watching as Ymir, his twin sister’s girlfriend, attempted to hang fairy lights up on their living room wall. Historia was looking at her with a stupidly sappy smile on her face, a half-empty glass of wine sitting beside her on the coffee table. What was so intriguing about the sight of Ymir stumbling and falling every two seconds, Armin couldn’t really comprehend, but, alas, love always managed to blind and triumph all, in the end.

A quick look at his watch told him it was almost 5:30 in the evening, and he nervously started to tap his foot against the floor. As much as he’d (guiltily) prayed that Historia’s annual beginning of the year party would somehow get scratched off the calendar, his efforts—though not as dedicated as they should’ve been, he could admit—had proved to be very much in vain. But it wasn’t as if he hated the idea of coming, per se. No, his sister never failed to live up to her infamous reputation for these types of things. It was more about one person in particular making an appearance that he really didn’t want to think about, at the moment.

“What are your bets for this year?” asked Historia, her eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief he’d been accustomed to since they were children.

Armin snorted. “I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on something happening. Last year’s shenanigans were more than enough for everyone, in my opinion.”

“Last year was practically nothing.”

Armin’s brows rose slightly. “Connie literally broke your couch.”

“Like I said, nothing.”

“And then he slept on the diving board in almost negative-degree weather.”

“God, that was funny,” Historia sighed as she took a sip from her glass. 

“And then he had to go to the hospital.”

“Still funny,” Historia grinned. “By the way, when did you say Eren and Mikasa were coming again?”

Armin suppressed a wince. See, he had a habit of making stupid off-hand comments without thinking about who exactly he was making said comments to. This time, he’d vaguely mentioned to those two a few days ago how he was going over to Historia’s house before the party to help her set things up, which led to Mikasa offering to come, too, which then led to her dragging Eren into it, who’d agreed with a tight smile that Armin didn’t think she’d noticed. 

“In around fifteen minutes, I think.”

Historia pressed her lips together. Behind them, Ymir had finally hung up the first round of lights and started leading them into the kitchen. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“Doing what?” Armin asked mildly. 

“The thing.”

“I’m not a mind reader, Historia. I need you to elaborate.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said coolly. “As soon as I mentioned Eren, you looked like those cats who arch their backs when they, like, you know—” she waved her hand. “When they touch cucumbers and shit like that.”

Armin blinked. “Touch cucumbers?”

“You’ve seen Freya do it before.”

“Speaking of, where is Freya?” Armin asked, desperate to change the subject. His sister’s new kitten usually greeted him at the door and hovered during all of his visits. “I haven’t seen her at all.”

“Ymir’s nana offered to take her. That many people in the house always stresses her out,” Historia replied. “Back to my point—you absolutely suck at deflecting, by the way—I thought you and Eren were on good terms.”

Armin bit his lip, not quite sure how to feel about her calling him out so easily, and managing to insult him all in one quick sweep. “We are. It’s just—he’s still my ex, Historia. The fact we’re even keeping this whole ‘we’re talking’ thing up is already more than I would’ve expected, anyways.”

“Still. You guys were best friends for, what, seven years before he asked you out? People stay close with their exes all the time,” she said. “Unless, you know.”

“Unless what?”

She gave him a pointed look. “Unless feelings are still involved.”

Armin scoffed. “Yeah, not happening.”

“I dunno…” she started. He shook his head.

“Nope.”

“I’m not stupid, Armin.” She took another sip. “You forget I’ve had to deal with you since the womb. I know what you look like when you’re in love with someone.”

“You’re looking for signs that don't exist,” he retorted. “Seriously, drop it. I get enough from Mikasa already.”

“‘Cause she’s not stupid, either,” Historia muttered. “And I don’t know what other answer it would be, since you never even told me why you ended things to begin with.”

Armin turned his attention back to the lights. In all honesty—and he would never admit this aloud, mind you—the break-up was stupid. Like, insanely stupid, to the point where Armin didn’t even remember why they’d broken up in the first place.

What he did remember, however, was it’d started with a fight—stupid, snappy bickering sessions between them had begun springing up in more and more bunches at the time. He personally suspected it was the stress Eren constantly denied about their first year of college—and had ended with Armin screaming that they were over and leaving their shared apartment with nothing but his phone and the clothes on his back. He’d arrived at Historia's house, soaking wet from the rain outside, sobbing harder than he ever had in his life, and then had to face Eren the following day when he’d gone to pick up his stuff. They didn’t verbalize it again after that, but he’d known. Four blissful years down the drain, all in the span of ten minutes.

He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t still torn up about it, because he was. Immensely. A year was nowhere near enough to soothe the ache, the ingrained longing for Eren deep in his bones. He was all Armin had ever known since they were eight, for God’s sake. He wasn’t just losing his romantic partner, but his best and dearest friend on top of all of that, and if it weren’t for Mikasa and Historia’s forced intervention, he reckoned they wouldn’t have been in any contact at all. Maybe that would’ve been for the best, but he would never dare say anything of the sort in front of Mikasa. She was probably just as, if not more miserable than they were, and she’d done the most she could to patch up the last remnants of their relationship. He refused to throw all that effort away.

But no feelings were involved. Absolutely none.

“Can we not talk about it, please?” Armin said finally. He rubbed his forehead. “I’m starting to get a headache.”

Historia stared at him for a few moments, before she exhaled. “Fine. But you’re okay, right? You don’t have to be at the party if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Armin lied, because he wouldn’t be the one to ruin Historia’s excitement. He knew how much planning these sorts of things meant to her. “Seriously, Tori, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“You just stress me out, that’s all,” she muttered. 

“How the hell do I stress you out? If anything—”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Go help Ymir with the lights. I’ll get the door when they’re here.”

Relief filled his features. “You’re a Godsend.”

“I know,” she winked.

Armin found Ymir still in the kitchen, cursing under her breath as one of the strings started to get loose on the cabinet. Within five minutes, he helped her completely fill the walls with the last of the lights, making Historia’s already stylish kitchen glow in a way that was almost intoxicating. Just as they were about to start setting out the food, the sound of the doorbell echoing throughout the house caused the hairs trailing up Armin’s neck to stand on end. He heard the door open, and then Historia and Mikasa’s voices. Ymir’s eyes flattened to slits.

“Oh, fuck me,” she groaned. “Now I have to deal with Eren’s shit. Again.”

“Yeah,” Armin mumbled. Ymir raised her brows at him.

“Huh.”

“What?” he asked. She eyed him up and down, which frankly made him want to scream and run in the other direction. No matter how long he’d known her, she’d always been just as intimidating as the day Historia brought her home in freshman year.

“Historia really wasn’t kidding about the cat thing.”

Before Armin could respond, Historia, Mikasa, and Eren walked into the kitchen. Mikasa’s face broke out into a smile at the sight of him. He gave a small wave, and she rushed over to engulf him a hug.

“I’m so sorry we were late,” she said, pulling away and giving Eren a look. “This one was taking forever.”

“You’re acting like I didn’t arrive at your place three minutes before we were supposed to leave, and you were still putting makeup on,” Eren grumbled. His hair was tied into a loose bun, a few strands sitting against his face. His black shirt was so tight Armin could see the outline of his muscles through the fabric, and was tucked neatly into ripped jeans. Cursing at himself for even looking, he forced himself to meet Eren’s eyes. They held the gaze for a second, eyes never wavering, before Armin looked away and cleared his throat.

“You weren’t late at all,” he said, hoping the blush on his face wasn’t too obvious. “What’s left to prepare, Historia? Other than the food.”

“I have to baby proof the pool,” Historia said, a hint of suspicion laced in her tone. She’d obviously picked up on his fretting, but Armin didn’t dare meet her eyes and give her the satisfaction of knowing that. “As much as I would like to see Connie and Sasha pulling shit again, we almost had to call the cops last time, and I really don’t wanna get busted.”

“How would you even baby proof the pool?” Mikasa asked with a slight snicker. “With fences, or what?”

“I’ll show you,” Historia grinned. “You guys are okay in here?” 

Armin nodded. “Just let us know if you need any extra help, yeah?”

“We won’t, but thanks,” Mikasa said, squeezing his hand, and they were off. 

Ymir dumped the last bag of chips onto the island counter and glanced between them.

“You two are in charge of this.”

Eren’s eyes widened. “Wait, we don’t know—” 

“Figure it out,” she said simply before she walked out the other door leading to the bedroom.

Armin mentally shot a million curses in her direction and took a deep breath, avoiding looking at Eren’s face at all costs. The air in the room felt unusually thick, like any hint of movement from either of them would cause sparks to fly. A few seconds of awkward silence passed, and Armin heard Eren let out a cough that basically said, well, if you’re not going to talk first, then I will.

“So,” he said, and Armin had to resist the urge to cringe. “Uh, how do you want to do this?”

Armin began separating the bags. Even though a year had passed since everything, a part of him still expected that easy flow of energy he’d always had around Eren to come back somehow. Never at any point during their friendship, or relationship, for that matter, was ever awkward. He still didn’t know how to deal with silence that wasn’t comfortable, or the fact that he couldn’t look Eren in the eye without feeling a horrible tug in his chest. Even now, with just the simple task of setting out food, it felt like something he had to calculate perfectly in his head when it should’ve been something as natural as breathing.

“I think organizing it by section is best. We could do the lightest foods first, so chips for example, and then work our way down from that.”

Eren snorted as he took out a bag of doritos and placed it at the end of the counter. Armin faintly registered the fact that he was only a few inches away, heat radiating from him despite the layers of clothes between them. “Always the one to take charge.”

“Someone has to, and you know how feral Sasha is during these things. I don’t want food getting all over the floor.”

“Sure,” Eren teased. Another long, excruciating moment passed, and then, “Hey, you know what this reminds me of?”

“Hm?” Armin replied, trying to focus on his hands and not the deepness of Eren’s voice. He passed another dorito bag, and Eren added it to the slowly climbing pile at the end of the table.

“That time in freshman year when Erwin made you the organizer for the prom,” Eren said. “You were shitting yourself before that first meeting and you dragged Mikasa and I with you—”

“I distinctly recall you begging me to take you with me,” Armin interrupted. Eren let out a small laugh, and Armin felt something molten start to ooze into his chest.

“Uh huh. Anyways, I remember how much you were shaking, and then as soon as someone asked you a question, you started talking in this big, like, booming voice, acting like you weren’t on the verge of tears three seconds before,” he said softly. “You always had a knack for it.”

“I had to do what I had to do.”

“Just admit you’re good at this stuff,” Eren said. Armin shook his head.

“I’m literally only organizing food, Eren.”

“Whatever.”

The silence that came afterwards wasn’t as bad as before, but it was a step. Usually, it took a lot longer for them to somewhat break the ice, and Armin was just glad to have been able to get through any conversation at all, much less actually enjoy it.

Only a few bags were left, at this point, and Eren had surprisingly managed to place the chips and the packed sandwiches in a manner that was neat. 

“Hey, Armin?” Eren asked quietly, breaking the stillness.

“Yeah?” 

Eren cleared his throat. “We’re good, right?”

Armin froze for an instant, then shook himself. “Of course we are.”

“It’s just—” Eren pressed his lips together, his movements becoming more rigid. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” Armin asked.

Eren shook his head. “Forget about it. It’s nothing.”

Armin furrowed his brows. “You can’t just say something like that and expect me to not want to know what you’re talking about.”

“And you have a habit of never letting things go,” Eren muttered. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“How many times do I have to say ‘forget about it’ for you to get the message? Leave it, Armin.”

Armin opened his mouth to retort, but stopped himself. He stepped back from the table and stared straight at the other, whose eyes were already on him. Waiting. Anticipating that response. A surge of hot, red anger shot through him—if Eren wanted to be that closed-off, vague, infuriating asshole he’d known that night one year ago, so be it. He wasn’t going to feed into his need for a fight.

“Fine,” he said, voice hard, harshly pushing the last bag and striding towards the door. 

So much for being good.

𑁤

The rest of their friends had arrived about an hour after Eren and Mikasa, and within minutes, bottles were open, cups were filled, and music was blasting through the speakers Historia set up against the walls. 

By seven-thirty, the party was in full swing. Historia’s house was so crowded with people Armin had to weave himself through the sea of bodies, his only sense of direction being his hands entangled with Sasha’s. She led him to the drink station after many failed attempts at getting through the endless mob, pouring something Armin couldn’t see in the colorful lights into one of the cups and shoving it in his hand.

“You’ll love this!” She shouted, her voice barely audible over the music.

Armin grimaced. “What is it?”

“Just drink and thank me later. You’re, like, really stressing me out.”

“Why am I stressing so many people out?” Armin asked with a groan. “First Historia, and now you. I’m literally just here.”

“It’s your energy, dude,” Sasha told him seriously. "Relax. Have fun, let loose, all that shit.”

Armin hesitated for a second, looking around. He hadn’t seen Eren since their little… What could he even call it? Argument? Disagreement? Misunderstanding? Maybe he’d just gotten lost in the crowd. 

Or, a small voice in his head started, maybe he’s dancing with someone else…

“Fuck this,” Armin muttered, throwing back his head and taking a huge gulp, the fiery liquid burning his throat. Sasha gave a cheer and clapped her hands together obnoxiously. “Jesus, Sash, that’s horrible.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” she grinned.

“Clearly.”

“Take another sip.”

Armin narrowed his eyes, then slowly sipped again, the burn still there but lessened. His stomach was already starting to feel warm, which was a given, considering how much of a lightweight he was. “A little better. It’s still shit, though.”

“It’s supposed to be shit, my love.” She grabbed his arm again. “C’mon. Mika’s waiting for me, and I promised to get her some of this stuff, too.”

“Do you even know what’s in it?”

“Nope,” she said, exaggerating the pop of her lips. Armin sighed.

Mikasa was standing with Connie and Jean a few feet away from the window. As soon as Armin and Sasha were in her vicinity, she wrapped her arms around both their shoulders and smacked two kisses to their cheeks. She’d definitely been drinking. “Thanks, Sash. Have you guys seen Eren anywhere? He slipped away from us a while ago.”

Armin tensed, but Sasha merely let out a snort. “Last I saw he was with Ymir and Reiner. She was making them some sort of drink.”

“Oh, God,” Jean groaned. Connie elbowed his side.

“The fuck is it now? I swear, between you and Armin, nothing’s fun anymore.”

“What did I do?” Armin gawked. Connie blew him a kiss.

“You know I love you anyways, even if you’re an annoying little nerd.”

“I still wanna know what I did.”

“And I want to know why Jean looks like he’s going to puke,” Mikasa said. Armin had to stop himself from laughing; Jean’s face was beginning to turn a particularly ugly shade of green.

“Ymir has... a thing,” he said cautiously.

Connie raised his brows. “Explain.”

“I can’t.”

“But why?”

“She threatened to kill me,” he said bluntly.

Armin’s eyes went wide. “Huh?”

“I think she was obviously bluffing, Jean,” Mikasa cut in.

“I dunno,” Sasha started. “There was that one time she made Connie clean up horse shit because he lost a bet.”

“That’s not killing, Sash.”

“It was still disgusting. Connie couldn’t get the smell out for weeks.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Sasha,” Connie said sarcastically. She kicked his shin.

“Just tell us so we don’t have to deal with it,” said Armin. “Surely it can’t be that bad, right?”

Jean pursed his lips, glancing at all their confused faces, before he exhaled. “Fine. So, you know how she has a habit of pranking literally anyone she comes across?” He looked around before leaning closer. “She has a prank drink.”

“A prank drink?”

“She mixes all this shit, like, vodka, wine, beer—”

“My stomach already hurts hearing this,” Armin told him, taking a sip from his mystery drink. Warmth was beginning to trickle up his arms and into his chest. 

“You don’t even wanna know what it was like drinking it.”

“Eww,” Sasha retched. Mikasa blew a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

“I’m guessing she tricked them into having it?”

“Precisely,” said Jean. “Now, either we’re going to have to deal with a very drunk Eren and Reiner, or things are going to get disgusting pretty soon.”

Connie waved his hand. “That’s their problem now. Seriously, who the fuck trusts Ymir with these types of things?”

“Them, apparently,” Armin muttered. The right side of his brain gave a low buzz.

Mikasa ruffled his hair. “Are you up for dancing? Historia and Hitch are out there right now. They were asking about you.”

“Sure, but I don’t know how we’ll manage, considering…” he trailed off, gesturing to the swarm behind them.

“It’ll be fine.” Right before she dragged him away, she gave the others a nod. “You’re all welcome to join us, if you want.”

Sasha kissed her cheek. “Go have fun. We’ll catch up with you later.”

Armin gulped down the rest of the drink and allowed Mikasa to lead him to the back. True to her word, Historia and Hitch were taking turns spinning each other around on the dance floor. Historia grabbed his and Mikasa’s hands, forming a circle, and both her and Hitch spun them simultaneously.

“I’ve been looking for you!” Historia shouted, separating from Mikasa and Hitch as they started to do their own thing. Her hair was a mess, blonde strands sticking up in all directions, and her cheeks were flushed from alcohol. “Are you having fun?”

“Yeah,” Armin grinned, and he meant it. The drink was really starting to get to him now, warming the pads of his hands and tingling the very ends of his toes. Thoughts of where Eren was still roamed the back of his mind, but right now, he was much more focused on swaying to the beat of the music. “I have a bet for you.”

“Spill,” she ordered as he twirled her by the hand. 

“Did you see Ymir with Reiner?”

“Yeah, I think. Wasn’t Eren there too?” she asked.

Armin scrunched his nose. “Don’t remember. Anyways, as I was saying— did you see the drink she gave them?”

Historia’s eyes went wide, understanding filling her face in instants. “The prank drink.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, shit.”

“I know. Wait, how do you know?”

“She tells me everything, idiot,” she said, as if it was obvious. “That’s besides the point. My question is, who do you think is going to crack first?”

Eren, Armin wanted to say, but then he remembered their fight, and despite his drunken state, the sinking feeling in his stomach told him to switch things up. “Er, Reiner?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s kind of a lightweight.”

“I don’t even wanna know what would happen to you if you had that drink,” Historia said smugly. 

Armin stuck his tongue out at her. “Shut up.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You’re so annoying when you’re drunk,” Historia laughed. Armin pouted. “Oh, don’t give me that. Remember the time you—”

Armin cut her off with another spin; the climbing sound of the music would’ve drowned her out anyway. He faintly wondered who the hell was in charge of the playlist before he suddenly collided with another body, breaking away from Historia and tumbling into the crowd. The other person cursed, and Armin realized with a start that it was Eren, recognizing his voice almost instantly as if it were second nature.

“Who the hell?” Eren muttered, turning to face him, and Armin felt his cheeks get hot; from the anticipation or unresolved anger, he didn’t know. Eren’s hair had been let loose of its bun, cascading down his shoulders and reaching just past his collarbone. Flush also stained his tan skin, which wasn’t surprising, considering what he drank not even three minutes ago. 

His eyes widened like saucers.  “Armin?”

“Eren,” he said flatly. Eren visibly swallowed.

“Uh, hi?”

“What are you doing here?” Armin slurred, jabbing his finger at Eren’s chest. “You’re supposed to be away.”

Eren blinked. “Away?”

“Away.”

“So I’m not the only one who’s drunk too much, then,” Eren sighed.

Armin’s brows pulled together. “I only had one drink.”

“And you start thinking you’re that old dude from Lord of The Rings after one sip.”

“You mean Gandalf?” said Armin curtly. Eren rolled his eyes.

“Fine, yes, whatever. I didn’t pay attention when I watched the movie.”

“Everybody knows who Gandalf is, Eren.”

“Not everyone, apparently.”

“You just lack media comprehension, then.”

Eren scoffed. “Here we go again. Always fucking starting shit for no reason—”

“Nuh uh,” Armin interrupted. “You started it.”

“How did I—”

“You wouldn’t tell me what you were talking about,” Armin said angrily, the frustration from earlier crashing into him like a wave. “And now we’re— we’re— we’re fighting again, because you don’t know how to talk.”

“I know how to talk,” Eren gasped. “All the shit you’re accusing me of is baseless.”

“Yeah, uh huh. This is exactly why we broke up, and you know it.”

A flash of hurt showed on Eren’s face, and guilt immediately pooled in Armin’s chest. “I don’t, actually.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No, I don't.” Eren took a step forward, and Armin was now very aware of the minimal space between them. “You never told me why.”

“I did, though,” Armin said, because he did, didn’t he? Sure, the memories were a bit blurry right now, but he didn’t go through with things without giving a reason. He knew that for a fact. Eren was probably just making things up as a result of his now mushy, Prank-Drink-filled brain. “It was very clear.”

“No, actually, it wasn’t. You just act like it was.”

He raised his head. Eren’s breath was hot against his face, mint mixed with what he thought was Ymir’s drink. The beautiful dark green of his eyes that Armin had always loved bore into his own, and his heart-rate quickened to levels that shouldn’t have been humanly possible. He felt the warmth of a hand, hesitating, against his forearm. He swallowed, the instinct to just move forward pushing him and pushing him—

“Armin,” Eren whispered, and Armin took that as his cue to tug him gently by the wrist and press their lips together.

He let out a sigh of relief, feeling Eren’s hands creep up underneath his shirt and rest against his back. If he were even a little more sober, he would’ve stopped to think about the fact that his sister and Mikasa were only a few feet away, or the fact that drunkenly kissing his ex-boyfriend was a very, very bad idea, but at that moment, he couldn’t care less, arms finally resting against Eren’s shoulders as he broke away for a quick, horrible second, hoping he hadn’t just messed up everything for real, before Eren pulled him back in and kissed him as hard as he possibly could.

Eren’s lips were warm and inviting and wet, and just as intoxicating as every kiss they’d shared in the past four years. Armin had basically memorized the curve of his cheek, the exact spot on his neck that made him keen and whine and beg for more. He could feel heat start to simmer in his lower abdomen, and he let out a small groan, hoping Eren didn’t hear, but he must’ve, because in seconds they were apart again and Eren was dragging him in the direction of the hallway, closed off to avoid people loitering in Historia’s well-kept rooms. Armin didn’t know how they managed to slip behind the curtains in their state, but they did, and it was only half-way on their journey to the guest room before Eren was enveloped in him again, hands digging into Armin’s hair.

He faintly recognized the clicking of Eren turning the doorknob, and suffice to say there wasn’t much thinking after that.

Chapter Text

Ow.

That was the first thought Armin had as he slowly started to regain consciousness, unbearable throbs thundering from the base of his skull. He opened his eyes, and, although small black dots clouded his vision, could make out the familiar bedside table in Historia’s guest room. Well. That answered the question starting to bubble about where exactly he’d passed out.

It wasn’t like he didn’t expect this to happen, or anything— every party his sister threw always had him in a funk one way or another. The pain rattling against the back of his eyes suddenly multiplied by a thousand, and he fought the urge to puke all over Historia’s newly-bought sheets. This was definitely going to be one of his worse hangovers; all he could remember from last night was that God-awful drink from Sasha and a lot of noise afterwards. He'd probably gotten so drunk he couldn’t even get himself into the driver’s seat of his car, much less get up in the first place.

Making a mental note to thank Historia for dealing with his shit again when he saw her, he took a deep breath and forced his body to move, stretching out his legs and arms and turning onto his other side.

What he hadn’t been anticipating, however, was being met with the sleeping, drooling face of none other than Eren Jeager smushed into the pillow beside him.

Armin blinked, not fully registering what he was looking at for a few blissful, ignorant moments, and then—

Oh.

He felt his jaw go slack. Oh, shit.

Before he could stop himself, Armin screamed, pulling the covers toward him and becoming very, very aware of the lack of clothes on his body. Not even two seconds later, Eren stirred, the bastard, his eyes blinking rapidly. 

No. Armin smacked his hand against his mouth. No. This wasn’t happening. He refused to believe this was happening. It was a dream, that was it— yes, it was his mind playing tricks on him again. Eren wasn’t here. No, this was just a figment of his imagination, purely a hallucination conjured up—

“Armin?” Eren said groggily. 

Disappointment and an unwelcome twinge of giddiness turned in Armin’s chest. Definitely not a dream, then.

It took a few more seconds of blank staring, but realization must’ve smacked Eren in the face, because he shot up in an instant, his brown hair sticking up in so many directions it looked almost static. “Oh my—”

Without thinking, Armin covered Eren’s mouth with his hand. One scream was already enough; two, and Ymir would come barging in here and catch them in this— this state, and Armin would frankly rather die than let anything of the sort ever happen in his lifetime.

A beat. Two, and Armin pulled away, desperately trying to ignore how hot his face was becoming. Eren stayed silent, staring at him again. 

“Shit,” he finally whispered, rubbing a hand against his face. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“Care to explain what the hell is going on?” Armin demanded. 

“You think I know?” Eren gawked, copying Armin’s movements and hiding himself behind the covers. Armin saw a flash of his abs, and he forced himself to keep his gaze on Eren’s face. 

“I don’t know!” He gritted his teeth. “You’re the one in my room.”

“It’s not even your room, Armin.” 

“You’re saying the room my sister gave me in her own house isn’t my room?”

“Fine, fine, yes, it’s your room.” Eren ran a hand through his hair, managing to calm at least some of it down. “Okay, wait, stop. We’ve gotta trace back our steps.”

Armin raised a brow. “Trace back our steps?” He looked over the side of the bed, cheeks reddening at the clothes scattered across the carpeted floor. “I think what happened is pretty obvious, Eren.”

“No shit. Was the both of us being butt-naked in a bed not enough of a hint for you?” Eren asked bluntly. “How much do you remember?”

“Literally nothing except Sasha giving me that stupid drink.” Armin groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I’m going to kill her. I knew this was a bad idea—”

Eren snorted. “Not her fault you’re the biggest lightweight I know.”

“This is not the time for shitty, offhand comments, Eren. And you have no room to talk— both you and Reiner fell for one of Ymir’s pranks. Again.”

“I didn’t deny— wait, you knew?” he gasped.

“I knew after she gave it to you, yes.” 

“That fucking—”

“Please don’t curse out Ymir in her own home,” Armin grimaced. “The last thing we need is to start any more drama.”

He furrowed his brows at the smile now playing on Eren’s face. Of course he of all people had the audacity to smile at a time like this. “I forgot how grumpy you get in the morning.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Armin said, feeling his pulse quicken. “I’m just being logical.”

“But you are.”

“Eren,” Armin hissed. The other boy shut his mouth. “This isn’t a joke, okay? This—” He gestured between them, “was never supposed to happen. We’re not supposed to be sleeping with our exes.”

It was probably just a product of his addled mind, but Armin swore he saw a tiny bit of hurt flicker against Eren’s face. 

“Uh huh.”

“This was a mistake,” Armin continued, even though it pained him to say it. But he had to be the one to bring them back to reality; this wasn’t going to change the fact that they’d broken up a year ago. “Just a drunken, stupid mistake that didn’t mean anything. That’s all.”

Eren thinned his lips. “A mistake.”

“Yes. A mistake.” Armin turned away, even the sight of Eren becoming unbearable, and reached for his phone on the bedside table. How it got there, he didn’t know, but he was thankful nonetheless.

“What are you doing?”

Armin ignored him. Huh. It was only eleven-thirty, and 45% after a party like that was actually better than what he’d expected. But when his eyes trailed down towards the notifications, the sight of about two hundred messages wasn’t exactly something that excited him.

“Seriously?” he muttered. He heard Eren sigh behind him.

“Are you ignoring me now?”

“No,” Armin said shortly as he unlocked his phone and immediately opened his messages app.

“It kind of seems like you are.”

Armin paused his movements for a moment to give him a look. “If you must know, I’m trying to read the fifty billion texts our friends sent me.”

“Looks like I got a bunch, too,” Eren said as he reached over his side of the bed and grabbed his phone from the floor.

A sinking feeling of dread pooled in Armin’s chest, and he swallowed, clicking on Jean’s contact first, which happened to be placed at the very top of his screen.

Jeannnn 😋 (10:11 a.m.)

Armin. 

Please tell me you did not get back with that fucking WEIRDO

Sash!!!<3 (11:02 a.m.)

ARMIN YOU LITTLE BITCH GET UP RIGHT NOW.

I SWEAR TO GOD 

U IDIOT

ANSWER ME

4+ notifications

Mikasa’s hit list 🤑 (Just now)

Ymir 😙: you all owe me thirty bucks btw

Marco💞: 😭😭😭😭 omg

Con 😒: reiner’s gonna lose his SHIT when he sees this ☠️

Ymir 😙: yeah cause that bitch owes me EXTRA

Con😒: LMFAOOOOOO

Annie 💛: can you guys stfu. it’s not even noon

Ymir 😙: no lol

Annie 💛:  🖕

Sash!!!<3 : IM CRYING ARE THEY STILL IN THERE??????????

Bertholdt! 💙: guys lets maybe not assume please😓😓 we don’t know anything for sure 

Jeannnn 😋 : Literally💀

Hitch 🫶: bert babe they literally kissed and did god knows what after i think whatever we assume is going to be true atp

Ymir😙 replied to Sash!!!<3 : they still haven’t left the room yet but idk if they’re awake or not

80+ previous notifications

mika my favourite 💕💘💗(8:30 a.m.)

Armin, please call me when you wake up and let me know you’re okay. I don’t know what happened and I’m getting worried. Eren isn’t answering me either. I love you. ❤️

Tori AKA the devil herself (10:18 a.m.)

come out as soon as ur up 😐

BOTH of u

Well, shit.

“They all saw us,” said Eren lowly. “Fuck.”

Armin fought the urge to groan again. He didn’t even know how they’d been able to spot them in their drunken states and happen to be awake at those ungodly hours of the morning. Seriously, what were some of them doing up at ten after all the drinks they had? How were they functioning properly without causing some type of brain damage?

“Based on what I’ve read so far,” Eren started, still scrolling through the group chat, “Hitch saw you kiss me and sent the first message right after, and then Sasha and Ymir saw us go through the curtain down the hall not too long after that, and—” he blushed. “Yeah.”

“I kissed you?” Armin said. That was definitely bullshit. Even drunk, he knew he couldn’t have possibly done anything that reckless.

Eren shrugged. “That’s what Hitch said. And she remembers everything when she’s drunk.”

Obviously, Armin knew that, but he chose to ignore that little detail for his own sake. “Did they say anything else?”

Eren visibly hesitated, and Armin immediately knew whatever was about to come out of his mouth was bad, because Eren never hesitated. Ever.

“Well,” he said slowly. Carefully. “They think we’re back together. Like, officially.”

Armin froze, his mouth and throat suddenly feeling like they were crawling with fire ants. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I really wish I was.” Eren held up his phone. “Ymir also bet on us, apparently, and now they’re fighting about who gets the money.”

“She what?”

“The only one who hasn’t said anything is Reiner, but I’m not surprised. He probably has the worst hangover in the world right now…”

Armin tuned him out, his head dangerously starting to spin in the way that he knew he was going to throw up in a few moments. He stumbled out of bed, not even bothering to care about being covered, and retched into the trash can beside the bathroom door. Eren’s curse was muffled behind him.

“Holy shit, dude.” Next came the rustling of covers, and then a blanket was being draped around Armin’s shoulders. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get Historia?”

“I’m fine,” Armin said weakly, throwing up again a second later. Eren’s hand soothingly rubbing his back sent tingles down his spine. 

“I’m getting her,” Eren decided. But before he could get up, Armin reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Armin, you’re turning green.”

“We can’t go out yet.”

“But—”

“Please? You know she’s going to ask us a billion questions. We have to get our shit in order.”

Eren looked like he was going to retort, but to Armin’s relief, he sighed and slumped next to him on the floor. It was then he noticed Eren had dragged the sheets and wrapped them around himself, too. “Fine.”

Armin leaned over the trash can, more bile rising to the back of his throat. Breathe. In and out. 

You’re going to be fine.

He retched. All of this was too much for his still half-drunken brain to handle; as if waking up naked next to his equally-naked ex-boyfriend wasn’t enough, now all their friends knew, too. They’d seen them. They’d seen everything. And now, he knew they were placing bets on them, which meant that none of them had believed anything he’d said over the past fucking year—

“Armin,” Eren said, snapping him back to the present. “I can practically see the cogs turning in your head. You need to try and stay calm.”

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do,” Armin croaked. His eyes were beginning to sting. “We were doing so well, and I— I messed everything up—”

“Hey, hey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He squeezed Armin’s shoulder. “I’m part of this, too.”

“But I started it.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that we’re both at fault.” Eren gave him a determined look. “We’re gonna figure this out. I promise.”

Armin swallowed, the roar of his stomach slowly starting to calm. He didn’t know whether it was because of him or his words, but Eren had always been the one able to get him out of his own head, even in the worst of his anxious breakdowns. “Okay.”

“You’re good?” His hand went slack. “Sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s fine,” Armin said almost immediately. “I don’t care.”

“Oh.” The sounds of their phones buzzing echoed throughout the room. “They’re really going crazy, huh?”

“I don’t know why they’d even bet in the first place,” Armin muttered. “It’s not like anything was going to happen. Now they’re never going to shut up about this.”

Eren stood, the lack of warmth from his hand making Armin shiver. “Do you need help getting up?”

Armin shook his head, bracing himself against the wall and making sure the blanket didn’t fall as he wobbled on his feet. He sat on the edge of the now-empty bed, Eren taking a seat not too far next to him a moment later.

They sat in silence for what felt like hours, occasionally stealing glances at each other and looking away as if nothing happened. Though, it wasn’t uncomfortable— in fact, it was the most comfortable silence Armin had had with Eren since… Well, everything. Warmth blossomed in his chest at the thought.

Another buzz from their phones broke the tranquility floating around them like waves. Armin opened his mouth to say something, but Eren beat him to it.

“I think I have an idea.”

Armin raised a brow. “Do tell.”

Eren laced his fingers together, his leg starting to bounce like it had a mind of its own. “You have to promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” 

“Armin.” Eren gave him a pointed look. “Promise me you won’t freak out.”

Armin narrowed his eyes. “I promise I won’t freak out.”

Eren exhaled. “Okay. So—” he fully turned towards him. “What if we pretended?”

Armin blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“How do I explain?” Eren murmured. “You know how they all think we’re back together, right?”

“Yeah?”

“What if we played into it?”

Armin stayed silent for a long, agonizing moment. Eren was looking at him expectantly, eyes accompanied with the shine of someone looking to impress. Unluckily for him, Armin was very much not.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he sputtered. Really, what the hell was Eren thinking? What kind of stupid, idiotic, insane thoughts were running through his head? Pretending to date? He almost laughed. Ymir’s drink must’ve rewired the already fucked up state of his brain, except made it worse. “Why would I ever—”

“Just hear me out,” Eren started, but Armin wasn’t having any of it.

“No. Nope. Absolutely not.”

“Can you listen to me for a second?” Eren hissed. Armin gritted his teeth. “Just trust me on this one. I swear, I actually thought about this—”

“For, like, three minutes, Eren.”

“—And I have really good reasons why we should do it,” Eren finished. 

Armin crossed his arms. “I don’t think there are any good reasons, but alright. Enlighten me.”

Eren grinned in triumph, which was stupid, since Armin hadn’t even agreed to anything yet, but he knew even just the allowance of an explanation was something Eren considered a win. “Okay, so, for one, it would cause a lot less drama.”

“Us pretending to date again would cause less drama,” Armin snorted. “Sure.”

“I’m serious. They already think we’re dating again, don’t they?” Armin stayed quiet, and Eren continued. “They’ve obviously been anticipating it, which, okay, is shitty as hell, but it is what it is. If we make it seem like nothing happened, that would cause more of a rift, would it not? Plus, Ymir will get her money, which is the last thing I want, but it means she won’t be grumpy and we both know Reiner will get over it one way or another. I don’t know about Connie, though.”

“Connie was in on it too?” Armin asked angrily. Eren waved his hand.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s Connie. Anyways. My second point is, Mikasa.”

Armin glared. “Really, Eren? You remember how messed up she was when we broke up. I don’t want her to be the one to clean up our mess again.”

“That’s the thing. We ‘date,’ bond or whatever, and come out of it all buddy-buddy. Not like, you know, last time.”

“Wouldn't it make things worse?” Armin said, fighting the urge to wince at the mention of last time. “We’ll just be getting her hopes up.”

“Not really. You know she doesn’t care what we are as long as we’re still talking,” Eren said. “She said it herself multiple times. I think she’d be happier if we ‘came to the conclusion’ of staying just friends, anyways, if it meant we weren’t fighting.”

He kind of had a point, but Armin sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that. This entire plan was still a shit-show. “And what happens when we fake break up again? You’re not thinking this through.”

“We stay friends. Again.”

“But what does that mean for everyone else?” Armin rubbed his forehead. “You know I can’t lie to my sister. I can’t lie to Mikasa or the others.”

“It’s not technically lying,” Eren shrugged. “And it’ll only be for, what, a few months? Then it becomes an inside joke or something in no time and everyone’s happy.”

“Life doesn’t work that way.”

“It’ll work that way if we do this right,” he urged. “What do you think we’re gonna have to tell Historia and Ymir when we leave this room eventually? ‘Oh, yeah, we slept together, but that’s just about it. Nothing really happened.’”

“That’s exactly what I was going to tell them, actually,” Armin said coolly. “It’s the safest option. This plan is plain insanity, Eren.”

“Not if you really think about it.”

Armin shook his head. “You definitely still have some alcohol in your system. I need you to think this through. Really think this through. Do you hear what you’re saying?”

“I do, actually. And I know if we do end up going through with it, it’ll benefit us and the others.” Eren looked away. “It’s your call. I’ll go with whatever you choose.”

Armin pressed his lips together. Now that Eren brought it up… what really would happen if they went with the ‘safer’ option? It made the most sense, yes, but then again, their friends had already had to deal with their bullshit a year ago. It’d almost torn the group apart; especially with Jean and Eren, who’d calmed down now, but still fell back into those horrible, real fights sometimes. More unnecessary talks behind backs and bets would spark, and overall, it would definitely be worse than last time.

And Mikasa. Eren, unfortunately, had started to make sense when it came to her— how would she take all this? Armin had promised himself to never put her through the same shit again, and pretending nothing happened would just be like a smack of last year to the face for her. She’d take it upon herself to try and fix things because that was just how she was, and the already shitty state of his and Eren’s relationship would crumble into nothing. And a part of him found that he really, really didn’t want that to happen. Not now, not ever.

The worst factor would definitely be Historia. Out of everyone, she knew him best; if he even breathed wrong, she would somehow find a way to point it out and (lovingly) bully him into telling her what was going on. Either they would have to tell her the truth and deal with her lecture, or act their asses off to the point where she didn’t suspect a thing. Besides, he had no idea how they would manage to act out something like this— even touching Eren now felt like something foreign. “Dating” meant holding hands. Talking. Kissing. Armin knew it would break him.

And yet.

Maybe Eren was right. Maybe they would come out of this as friends again. Real friends. Maybe it would become an inside joke that they laugh at in a year or two.

But did he really want that?

Yes, said the annoying voice in his head. You know you want a little taste of him again. Admit it.

Shut up, he told it, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at Eren, who was staring at the floor. It was then he really realized how long his hair had gotten, golden brown strands glowing in the sun coming in from the window. He remembered how he used to run his hands through it, how he’d braided it after every shower. The kisses to his cheek with every stroke of the brush. Laughs and giggles that made his chest warm in a way nobody could ever describe with words.

Even if it’s just a few months. He could pretend. If it meant getting back that feeling, that pure, innocent content, he would do anything.

I am so going to regret this, he thought before he said, “I’ll do it.”

Eren’s head whipped around, his eyes wide. “You’re serious?”

Armin nodded. “I still think it’s a bad idea, but…” he laced his hands together. “You’re right. Acting like nothing happened would just make things worse for everybody.”

“Told you,” Eren smiled smugly. “You’re sure you’re okay with it? I don’t want you to think I’m trying to pressure you, or anything.”

“You’re not. Like you said, it’s my call, and I say we do it.” Armin licked his lips. “But I have a few conditions I want to lay out from now.”

“Shoot.”

Armin took a deep breath. He knew what he was about to say was a bit over the top, but if it meant sparing less pain when this was all over, then so be it. “Pretending to date means at least some PDA, obviously. I’m okay with it, but only when we’re around other people.”

Eren nodded, though Armin noticed he was a bit stiff. “Fair. I mean, it doesn’t make sense to do anything without someone there. The whole point is that we’re trying to convince everyone.”

“Precisely.” Armin swallowed. “Second condition; we don’t tell any of our parents about this. No family dinners, none of it. I’m going to tell Historia and Mikasa the same. Erwin and Levi would realize something was up as soon as we stepped foot through the door.”

“That’s probably for the best. I don’t wanna get my mom’s hopes up, either. You were always her favorite,” Eren said quietly. Armin’s brows pulled together. If there was one thing he missed about their relationship, it was getting to see Carla. Guiltily, he’d been avoiding visiting her, but he knew he’d probably do something embarrassing like cry as soon as he saw her. She’d always had that warm aura about her, the kind where she made everyone feel safe enough to tell her anything. He wouldn’t have been able to hold back. “Anything else?”

“That’s about it, I think,” Armin said. “Do you have anything else you’d like to add?”

“Nah.” He looked at the clothes on the floor. “We should probably get ready. Do you know what you’re going to say to Historia?”

Armin nodded. “Leave it to me.”

“Okay.” Eren shuffled off the bed and grabbed his jeans, boxers, and T-shirt. “I’ll, uh, be in the bathroom. Let me know when I can come out.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Armin let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Globs of words and sentences he was going to tell his sister floated about in his mind, and he took this as his chance to get dressed, as well. No matter what he said, he knew she was going to be supportive of his decision. That was all that mattered. 

He just hoped she wouldn’t be that mad at him for lying after all of this was over.

After three minutes, he knocked on the bathroom door, and he and Eren were leaving the bedroom, wincing when the hinges of the main door creaked. Halfway down the hall, Eren cleared his throat.

“Shouldn’t we hold hands or something?” he whispered. Armin froze. “To make it believable. We’d look kind of stupid otherwise.”

“Oh.” He eyed Eren’s hand, barely visible in the dark lighting. This is what you signed up for. Better just get used to it now. “Okay.” 

Hesitantly, he held his hand out, barely grazing Eren’s, before the other boy took it and laced their fingers together. The electrical current surging through Armin’s body almost caused him to stop again, but he forced himself to move. It’s just hands. Just holding hands for show. It doesn’t mean anything.

He slightly opened the curtain, stepping a bit in front of Eren when he did so. Historia was sitting on the couch, and Ymir was whispering something into her ear with her arm around her shoulders. The living room was an absolute mess; bottles had been scattered across the floor, numerous bags of chips were on the coffee table and fireplace, and a huge stain that Armin hoped was just a regular drink was splattered on the sliding door leading to the backyard. Some of the lights had been ripped off the walls and were pitifully swaying back and forth as they hung. Armin didn’t even want to know who was responsible for that.

“Damn,” said Eren from behind him. Historia’s head shot up immediately, her murderous gaze clear enough even from where they stood. Ymir slowly took back her arm, a shit-eating grin playing on her face. 

“If the both of you don’t get your asses out here within the next three seconds, I swear to God.”

Armin gulped, then pushed away the curtain entirely. Their entangled hands were on display for the other two to see, Historia’s jaw effectively dropping as soon as the sight hit her.

“Hi,” Armin said sheepishly, using his free hand to wave. Historia clamped her mouth shut.

“I thought Ymir was bullshitting me.”

“You know I’m always right about these things, babe,” Ymir drawled, crossing her arms and putting her feet up against the coffee table. “Thanks for getting me my money, losers.”

Eren flipped her off. “You’re dead to me.”

“Love you too, Jeager.”

“Kill yourself.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up.” Historia stood and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shit. Where the hell do I even start with this?”

“We can explain, if you want,” Armin said carefully. “I just want you to promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”

Historia pursed her lips. “You’ll answer any and all questions I ask?”

“Yes.”

“You swear?”

“On my life,” Armin said.

“On Freya?”

“For the— yes, I swear on Freya.”

“Fine.” She squinted at their hands. “I don’t know whether I should be happy or just fucking confused.”

“Happy, I hope,” Eren muttered.

Historia shot him a dirty look. “I don’t even wanna hear your voice right now, Jeager. Whatever shit you’ve spewed to Armin—”

“He didn’t spew anything,” Armin interrupted. “It was a mutual decision.”

“Mutual decision to what?”

Armin stole a glimpse at Eren, who squeezed his hand in encouragement. “We’ve decided to, er, start going out again.”

Ymir reached for her phone, but Historia grabbed it from her hand before she could type anything. “You are not saying anything to anyone, are we clear?”

Ymir pouted. “I’m literally so close to getting those thirty bucks.”

“And you can get those thirty bucks later, my love. Have patience, please.”

“Fine,” Ymir sighed. Historia turned back to the other two.

“Start going out again, as in dating each other again?”

“Yep.”

“God help me,” Historia groaned, tangling her fingers in her hair and giving each side of her head a little tug. “And you came to this conclusion after a stupid spur of the moment hookup?” Both Armin and Eren blushed, and she rolled her eyes. “I knew I should’ve kept the both of you away from the drinks.”

“I asked you to be reasonable—”

“This is me being reasonable, Armin.” She exhaled shortly. “Look. It’s not my place to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. I mean, I have no idea what’s been going on with the both of you anyways, so maybe I’m missing something, but this just seems like a really dumb decision. I’m sure you’re well aware of what happened the last time you guys did this.”

“I know.” Armin raised his head. “But we talked things through, and we’re willing to try again. We also promise not to cause drama if anything doesn’t go smoothly.”

“I don’t know…”

“Historia.” Armin softened his gaze. “I really don’t want you to stress yourself out over this. We’re fine. I’m fine.”

She furrowed her brows. “Uh huh.”

Guilt blossomed in Armin’s chest at the genuine look on his sister’s face, but he pushed it aside. “Seriously. I think I feel better than I have in the past year.”

He could feel Eren’s eyes burning holes in the side of his head. Historia stayed silent for a few moments before she blew out a breath. “Okay. If you’re really fine…”

“I am.”

“You know I’ll be there for you no matter what you do.”

Armin broke away from Eren and pulled Historia in for a hug. “Thank you, Tori.”

“Idiot.” She patted his back affectionately, then drew away. “You should really call Mikasa, by the way. She’s been asking me about you non-stop.”

Eren fished his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll do it,” he said as he headed towards the kitchen. Right before he closed the door, he gave Armin a small smile. “And you can be in charge of telling the others everything else.”

“Hey, wait a minute—” Armin started, but Eren had already slammed it shut. “Are you serious?”

“Do you want me to punch him for you?” Ymir asked. 

Armin snorted. “Honestly, yeah.”

“Already trouble in paradise,” she sighed. Historia lightly smacked her arm. “Baby, I’m joking.”

“They literally just reconciled. I don’t need you jinxing them.”

“Not jinxing if it’s true.”

“Ymir.”

Armin sat on the arm chair of the couch and pulled out his phone, scrolling down to the terrifying sight of the group chat. Connie, Jean, Hitch, Sasha, and Marco were all typing at once. Of course the people most likely to hound him with questions were the ones who were active. Here goes nothing.

Mikasa’s hit list 🤑 (Just now)

Armin: Guys

All of their typing bubbles collectively stopped, then came back at the speed of light.

Con 😒: AMRIN

Con 😒: armkn

Con 😒: ARMIN.

Sash!!!<3 : OH MU FUCIKMG GOD

Sash!!!<3 : PATHETIC ASS TWINK

Sash!!!<3 : WHERE TF WERE YOU

Marco💞: SASHA????? 

Armin: OH MY GOD???😭

Jeannnn 😋: Armin i’m actually going to kill you

Hitch 🫶: PLS THIS IS A LIFE OR DEATH SITUATION

Hitch 🫶: WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED

Armin: See I was trying to get to that before you lot started freaking out 

Con 😒: “you lot” 

Sash!!!<3 : I always forget ur half british its such a jumpscare

Marco💞: LMFAOAOAO

Marco💞: ok but fr armin WHATS GOING ONNNNN

Hitch 🫶: @everyone he’s up HE’S UP

Jeannnn 😋: Omfg the last thing we need rn is ymir and her fucking shit

Ymir 😙: first of all kys

Ymir 😙: second of all i was right

Tori AKA the devil herself: ymir.

Ymir 😙: oops

Sash!!!<3 : WDYM….,.

Jeannnn 😋: NAHH NAH

Jeannnn 😋: GET OUT

Bertholdt! 💙: Oh lord 

Con 😒: ARMIN WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

Armin: CAN YOU GUYS STOP FOR ONE SECOND

Armin: OMG

Armin: As I was TRYING to say

Armin: I have smth to tell you all

Marco💞: jean is abt to piss himself jsyk

Hitch 🫶: LMFAOOOO

Con 😒: CAN YOU GUYS LET THE POOR MAN SPEAK.

Armin: Thank you Connie

Con 😒: ily 

Armin: <3

Armin: Ok so

Armin: Don't freak out but

Armin: I actually have no idea how to say this

Tori AKA the devil herself: all of you are idiots

Tori AKA the devil herself: armin so help me god if u dont say it i will let ymir loose

Ymir 😙: 😛

“I’m not joking,” Historia said from the other side of the couch. She was now curled up in Ymir’s lap. Armin stuck his tongue out at her.

“And you call Ymir impatient.”

“I said that with truth and love,” she grinned. Ymir kissed her cheek.

“You two are so weird.”

“Get on it, Minnie.”

“For the love of— do not call me that.”

“So tell them.”

Con 😒: …

Bertholdt! 💙: i’m so fucking scared rn

Sash!!!<3 : SAY ITTTTTT

Armin: Alright since you asked

Con 😒: bro is tryna be nice

Armin: After last night’s events, Eren and I have decided to get back together. Officially.

“Was that so hard?” Historia asked sweetly. 

Armin scowled. “I hate you.”

“Love you more.”

Jeannnn 😋: …………

Marco💞: oh

Marco💞: …

Marco💞: OH.

Sash!!!<3 : I FUCKING KNEW IT

Sash!!!<3 : KWNDIWNEIWNSJWJ

Con 😒: BROOOOOOOOOO

Con 😒: ok im happy for u and all but like

Con 😒: COULD YOIU NPT HAVE WAITED TWO MORE MONTHS.

Armin: ??? Why 😭

Hitch 🫶: BECAUSE WE WOULD’VE WON THE BET.

Hitch 🫶: also CONGRATS happy for u 💓💕💗💖💘

Hitch 🫶: BUT SERIOUSLY.

Ymir 😙: LMFAO LOSER

Ymir 😙: ok now where’s my money

Con😒 : I HATE YOU SO FUCKINT MUCH

Bertholdt! 💙: congrats Armin!! Wishing u both the best 😊

Armin: Thank you guys ❤️ minus the bet thing but

Jeannnn 😋: Don’t rope me into that nonsense please

Jeannnn 😋: Also armin did er*n poison you or something bc WHY.

Sash!!!<3 : this mf really went the extra mile and censored eren’s name im crying

Hitch🫶: ooohhhh god here we go again

Ymir 😙: deserved!

Jeannnn😋 reacted to Ymir😙’s message with a ❤️

Armin: Both of you stop

Armin: And it was a mutual decision, Jean

Eren: yeah JEAN

Armin raised a brow. “He finished the call already?”

“No idea,” Historia shrugged. As if on cue, Eren strided out the door. Maybe it was just Armin’s imagination, but he swore he saw little beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face.

“Mikasa’s asking you to text her,” he told Armin. “As in, like, right now.”

mika my favourite 💕💘💗 (Just now)

Min

Armin

Hi Miks

Sorry I couldn’t get to you till now

mika my favourite 💕💘💗

Are you okay?

Eren just told me everything

He sounded really happy

Armin felt his pulse start to rise. His gaze flickered to Eren, who was furiously tapping away on his phone. He and Jean must’ve been getting into some kind of argument.

Armin

I’m okay

More than okay

Really

But how are you feeling about it?

mika my favourite 💕💘💗

I’m happy of course

You seriously have no idea how happy I am right now

But also just

I don’t know

You’re sure this is the right path for both of you? I don’t want last time to ever happen again

Armin frowned. He really hated lying to her— especially when she was like this. But, again. If things went according to plan, then everything would stay the same regardless of his and Eren’s relationship status. He just had to believe it would work.

Armin

Miks I promise you nothing bad’s gonna happen

We’re good

mika my favourite 💕💘💗

Okay. That’s all I could ever ask for

I love you so much

Armin

I love you too 

I’ll see you as soon as I can, yeah?

You have to tell me what happened to the walls 

The lights are EVERYWHERE

mika my favourite 💕💘💗

You can blame Connie for that

Armin

HELLO????

mika my favourite 💕💘💗

I’ll tell you when I see you

Or call you

I’m guessing Historia knows about you and Eren as well?

Armin

Yep she caught us as soon as she woke up

mika my favourite 💕💘💗

Do Levi and Erwin know?

Armin

NO.

And I would like to keep it that way

For now at least

You know how they got last time

I don’t want them freaking out

mika my favourite 💕💘💗

Okay I won’t say anything then

Also I have to go

Sasha’s taking me out to brunch

But I’ll see you soon

Armin

Yes <3

Byeeee have fun on your date

Love you

mika my favourite 💕💘💗

I love you more

Bye

❤️❤️

“I’m going to kill this son of a bitch,” Ymir seethed. “He’s such a liar.”

“Kill who, now?” Armin asked uneasily. 

“Reiner.”

“He’s up?”

“Up and hungover, yeah.”

“I wonder whose fault that is,” said Eren. Ymir wiggled her eyebrows.

“Both of you are too fun to mess with. You saw me pour all that shit into the cup and you still willingly drank it.”

“Oh, yeah, before I forget. Armin,” Historia said, effectively cutting off Eren’s incoming retort. “Dad and Pa want us to go over for lunch today.”

“What time?”

“Like, in an hour.” She gestured to Eren. “You can come too, if you want. Ymir’s going.”

Eren cleared his throat. “I’d love to, but I was just about to say I was leaving. I had this assignment that was supposed to be done by yesterday.”

“Imagine having to work on a Sunday,” Ymir smirked. He flipped her off again, this time with both hands.

“I’ll walk you out,” Armin said, standing and stretching out his arms. As they started to make their way towards the door, Eren laced their fingers together again, and Armin's cheeks heated at the sudden warmth. “You have everything, right?”

“Yep. Thanks for letting me stay here, by the way,” Eren added, giving Historia a nod. She waved.

“Don’t do it again!” Ymir called. 

“Ignore her,” Armin said lowly. Eren snorted. “Well? That went okay, didn’t it?”

The outside air was cold, wind stinging Armin’s face when they stepped outside. It was only October, yet winter seemed to be creeping up on them by the second.

Eren smiled. “I told you it would be fine.” He looked down at their hands. “Now we do the same thing every day for just a few months.”

“Mhm,” Armin said lightly. Begrudgingly, he took back his hand. Nobody was around to watch them. “A few months.”

Eren smoothed some of the hair out of his face and cleared his throat. “So, uh, I’ll see you soon?”

The question was hesitant. Unsure. Armin shook his head, a small laugh letting itself loose from his mouth. “I’ll text you, Eren.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” A bit of flush rippled against the other’s cheeks, but Armin reckoned it was only from the lowering temperature. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Armin grinned, watching as Eren quickly turned away and almost stumbled down Historia’s front steps.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Armin’s eyes scanned the blob of words on his computer screen, his fingers paused right above his keyboard. It was times like these that he wanted to throttle his past self for ever wanting to go to college and study marine biology— it was making him hate writing essays, and he loved writing essays. 

“Are you sure he’s not having some sort of mental breakdown?” Levi asked bluntly from behind. Armin heard Erwin’s small laugh in response. “The kid’s been staring at that damn computer screen for twenty minutes.”

He slightly turned in his chair to face them, brows pulling together. Erwin was scrolling through his seven-year-old iPad on the couch, his big black reading glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. Levi sat close to him, sipping his tea with one hand. He used the other to adjust the sound of his prized classical radio placed on the side table; it’d been playing ever since Armin started writing two hours ago, the volume low enough that it didn’t distract him. 

“I’m not having a mental breakdown, Pa.”

“All that alcohol you had on Sunday messed with your head. I’ve never seen you have this much trouble with an essay, of all things.”

Armin felt his cheeks get warm in embarrassment. Like always, his father’s words did have some truth to them. He had been a lot more distracted than usual. But alcohol was far from the reason; it was more about the anxious back and forth in his brain about getting a text from a certain brunette that refused to let him rest for even a moment.

Okay, maybe he was being a bit overdramatic. After all, he’d been the one to suggest that they text in the first place, so being worked up about it was stupid. Eren should’ve been the one waiting impatiently next to his phone with his stomach in knots, not the other way around. But what else was Armin supposed to do? He didn’t even know what they’d text about— a ‘how are you?’ felt way too forced. ‘What are you doing?’ was just asking for awkwardness. It wasn’t like they were actually dating, either, so even bringing up the topic of texting was dumb on Armin’s part. Everything was just for show, and nobody was going to read their texts as far as he knew, so unless something drastic happened, he refused to be the one to start anything on that front.

Maybe I really am having a mental breakdown, he thought before he mumbled, “I’m a bit tired. And I didn’t drink that much.”

“Mhm. The states you and Historia arrived in the morning after that party clearly said otherwise.” Levi tilted his head to catch a look at Erwin’s screen. “The hell are you doing?”

“Reading the news,” Erwin said. Levi raised a brow.

“On Facebook?”

“Darling, does this look like Facebook to you?”

“All those dumb social media apps are the same to me,” Levi grumbled. 

Armin fondly smiled. As ashamed as he’d originally been about moving back in with his parents after the break-up, he’d slowly re-learned to appreciate their company and the comfort it gave him. He didn’t know how he would’ve passed last year if he hadn’t had them and Historia by his side through the worst of everything. Plus, living here was definitely a lot more luxurious compared to that of a cramped college dorm. 

He sighed. Just two hundred more words, and then I can finally relax.

Just as his hands hovered over the keyboard, his phone suddenly vibrated against the wooden table. He grabbed for it almost immediately, disappointment pooling in his stomach at the name popping up on his screen.

Tori AKA the devil herself (Just now, 3:32 p.m.)

mikasa and I are gonna do masks at my place rn

come

Armin

I’m busy

Tori AKA the devil herself

idgaf get ur ass over here

kasa wants to see you

and shes not gonna text u bc i know she doesnt wanna bother u while u work but u know i sure as hell will

so COME.

Armin

I hate you sm

Fine

Tori AKA the devil herself

<3

youll thank me for this later 

“I’m going out,” Armin said as he pocketed his phone and shut the laptop. Erwin looked up from the iPad.

“Where?”

“Historia’s. Mikasa and her want to do masks, apparently.”

Erwin smiled. “Have fun. Drive safe.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Levi called, eyes still scanning Erwin’s screen. Armin huffed and lightly shook his head as he grabbed the keys from the side table at the door.

“Pa, we’re doing masks.”

He waved his hand. “Whatever. Make sure to tell them to get their asses here soon and have dinner with us.” That was basically his way of saying, tell them I love them and miss them. And also invite me next time.

Armin grinned. “You could’ve just said you wanted to do the masks with us, Pa.”

“Get out.”

𑁤

“Are you sure this is really necessary?” Armin asked, wincing at the cold teal mask now pressing against his face.

Historia grinned, and it was nothing short of evil. “Duh. You look like a walking zombie.”

“Great,” he muttered, leaning back against the couch. Freya was curled up in his lap, letting out little puffs of breath as she snoozed. They’d turned the entire living room into a spa-extravaganza; tubs filled with warm water to put their feet in were placed on top of the plastic-covered floor, the fairy lights were back up, and soothing music was playing from the TV. 

Mikasa shook her head. Her hair was held back with one of his sister’s stretchy headbands, and her face was covered with the bright-pink mask, as per Historia’s request. “You look fine. She’s just being mean, as usual.”

“But he does!” Historia laughed. She touched her fingers against her own purple mask, probably making sure it stuck to her face correctly. “These things better fucking work. The weather’s been making my skin so dry lately.”

“I know,” Mikasa said, and they spent the next twenty minutes talking about creams and face-washes and other things Armin couldn’t even bother to try and understand. He was content with just sitting there, basking in the coolness and feeling more relaxed than he had in a while. Maybe he should’ve let those two drag him into these sorts of things more often.

“Do you think he’s asleep?” Historia whispered suddenly, cutting off their conversation. Armin hadn’t even realized he’d shut his eyes; he opened one and stared straight at her.

“Don’t even think about it.”

She held her hands in the air. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.”

“Leave him,” Mikasa said, a small smile playing on her face. “I’m surprised he was even able to sit still.”

“I can sit still,” Armin retorted, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Freya had also stirred, stretching out her paws and yawning. “Looks like someone had a nice nap, hm?” He scratched her head, and she started to purr.

“She may as well be your cat, at this point,” Historia said, rolling her eyes. “Every time you’re over here she acts like nobody else exists.”

Armin snorted. “‘Cause she knows I’m the best.”

“Debatable.” She scrunched her nose. “How long did the instructions say to leave the mask on, again? It’s kind of burning me.”

Mikasa checked the box. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Shit.”

Once the masks were off (leaving them with thankfully smooth and burn-less skin), they moved the tubs of water outside, sitting on Historia’s lawn chairs and soaking their feet in them. Armin would’ve been shivering if not for the warm water and the coat now wrapped around his shoulders.

“The sky is so pretty today,” Mikasa murmured. The few wisps of clouds above blended in with the light that was slowly turning pink. “So soothing.”

“I literally feel like I’m on a cloud right now,” Armin sighed. “Were these past few days stressful for you guys, too, or was it just me?”

Historia and Mikasa shared a glance, and Historia then turned to him with this expression on her face that he couldn’t quite explain. That made him uneasy— he’d always been able to tell what she was thinking based on one look alone. 

“What do you mean by stressful?”

“Like, in general,” he said, shoulders tensing. “School stuff. The usual. What did you think I was talking about?”

“The party,” Historia said gruffly. 

“I think what she means,” Mikasa interrupted before Armin could speak, “is that it’s been a bit, how do I say this? Hectic.”

“Hectic?”

Mikasa started to fidget with her fingers, which meant she was definitely holding something back. “With everything that’s happened.” She frowned. “You sure it’s just school that has you all wonky? More than normal, I mean.”

Armin opened his mouth to respond, but the vibrations suddenly coming from all three of their phones cut him off. He raised a brow and fished it out of his pocket.

Mikasa’s hit list 🤑 (Just now, 4:46 p.m.)

Con 😒: guys 

Con 😒: its time.

Armin: ? For what

Con 😒: the mario kart showdown

Con 😒: ymir vs reiner. ten rounds

Con 😒: we’re all betting

Marco💞: Oh my god not this shit again

Con 😒: sash and jean are here already

Con 😒: reiner and ymir too, obv

Con 😒: cmonnnnn it’ll be fun :( 

Con 😒: you guys don’t even have to bet but PLEASE

Historia snorted. “ That’s what Ymir’s been doing this whole time?”

“What’d she tell you?” Mikasa asked. 

“That she had some ‘important business’ to get to and wouldn’t say what.”

“Good God.”

“I think we should go.”

 Armin hummed. “Of course you do.”

“But we’re relaxing,” Mikasa complained. “It’s only been an hour since we started, too.”

Historia shrugged. “We can always do this again later. It was really fun last time when Sasha and Jean played.”

“You just want to see Ymir.”

“Maybe,” Historia said, a bit of blush prickling against her cheeks. “Don’t tell me you’re not at least a bit tempted.”

“I don’t know…”

“Sasha’s gonna be there. And as long as we’re not betting anything, we’re good.”

Mikasa’s brows furrowed. “That is true.”

Armin checked the group chat again. So far, Marco, Hitch, and Bertholdt had agreed. Annie hadn’t even bothered to check the message, as expected, but he knew Hitch would manage to drag her girlfriend along one way or another. That left only him, Mikasa, Historia, and—

A new, separate notification popped up on the top of his screen, and it was safe to say all the air was promptly sucked out of his lungs.

Eren (Just now)

are u going

This is the time he decides to message me? Armin thought, throat suddenly feeling dry as he opened their chat. They’d rarely texted since that fateful day a year ago, mostly just short, straight to the point messages about stupid things like where Mikasa was, or confirmations about hangout times with their other friends. Things that pushed older, more painful messages farther and farther away from eyeshot.

Armin

Hi, Eren

Nice to hear from you, Eren

It may have been a little petty, but Armin was a bit too pissed off at the moment to care. Who does he think he is, going and—

Eren

oh don’t you start

ive been waiting this whole time for YOU to text ME

like you said

remember?

Armin

I thought you forgot about that

Eren

liesssssss

you just wanted me to text first

He did, but Armin sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that.

Armin

Ok well

Eren

mhmmmmm

Armin

I didn’t mean it that literally

And I didn’t even know what to say

So

Eren

sureeee

anyways

you didn’t answer my question

Armin

I’m with Mikasa and Historia rn so idk

Are you?

Eren

i’ll go if you go

Oh. Armin stared at the screen, eyes wide. 

I’ll go if you go. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Who’re you texting?” Historia asked, suddenly standing and peering behind his shoulder. He yelped and hid his phone underneath his thigh.

“Jesus— Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Tell me.”

“You’re so nosy.” Armin glanced at Mikasa, who was watching them curiously. “It was just Eren.”

“Knew it,” Historia said smugly. “Your face looks like a tomato.”

“Does not!”

“It kind of does, though,” Mikasa grinned.

He shot her a dirty look. “Traitor.”

“Watch him say he wants to go now,” Historia fake whispered.

“I can still hear you, idiot.”

“Well?” He stayed silent, and she gave Mikasa a nod. “There’s our answer.”

“I hate you so much,” he muttered as he re-opened his phone. She blew him a kiss.

Armin

I’ll be there

Eren

good

:)

𑁤

The drive there was short, seeing as Historia’s house was only fifteen minutes away from the university. Armin parked in his usual spot right outside the main campus building, and the three of them started to walk in the direction of Connie’s dorm, which was located on the South side. It was arguably the most posh out of all the dorm buildings; Connie had not been kidding about the benefits of being Jean’s roommate. Their living room alone was two times larger than Armin’s old apartment on the North side, and had become the sort of ‘designated hangout’ space for the group ever since they started college last year.

It was only three knocks on the door before they were greeted with a frankly terrified-looking Bertholdt. “Guys,” he said. “You made it literally just in time.”

A shout undeniably belonging to Sasha came from behind him. “What’s happening?” Mikasa asked as Bertholdt led them inside. Multiple chip bags were already scattered across the floor. “It hasn’t even been thirty minutes and this place looks like a pigsty.”

“Don’t fucking fail me now!” Connie screamed from the main couch. Sasha stood behind him, bracing her hands against the back of the couch. Ymir and Reiner were sitting on the floor, both frantically fiddling with their controllers, eyes never leaving the TV. Hitch was sprawled out on the second couch in the corner, a few dollars clutched in one of her hands. Marco was watching them all with a disapproving look on his face, Jean’s head resting in his lap, and Annie was sitting with her legs atop Hitch’s thighs.

Then there was Eren, who sat criss-crossed next to Connie. His hair was tied up in its usual bun today, a few loose strands sitting against the sides of his head. His head whipped around at the sound of Bertholdt shutting the door, face breaking out into a grin at the sight of them. That familiar thud, thud, thud started to sound in Armin’s chest, and he tried his best not to let the heat in his face show.

“Armin,” he called, patting the space beside him.

He pulled at his sleeve, the room starting to get warmer with every moment. They were around friends, which meant they had to put their arrangement into place, which meant that him standing there and staring like an idiot was bound to look at least a little suspicious. He took a shaky breath. You can do this. Just don’t think about, well, all of it, and you’ll be fine.

As soon as he was within his vicinity, Eren reached out and grabbed his hand. When their eyes met, his face seemed to ask, you’re good? Armin gave him a small smile, and, without thinking, leaned in and placed a kiss against his cheek. If the whistles from Connie and Historia were anything to go by, he assumed their little act was working so far.

“Don’t commit such heinous acts in front of me, please,” Connie said, pretending to cover his face with his hands. Eren wrapped his arm around Armin’s shoulders and pulled him closer. He was sure he was going to explode into a puddle of nothing within the next two seconds.

“You’re the one who looked,” Eren smirked. Historia snickered and pecked Ymir on the forehead, who blushed in response, and took the empty seat next to Jean. Mikasa wrapped her arms around Sasha’s shoulders, and Sasha quickly kissed her on the mouth with a whispered greeting before turning her attention back to the TV. “Leave us alone and worry about the piles of money you’re about to lose.”

“Hitch is the one who bet on Reiner, not me,” Connie shrugged. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“It was a calculated decision. You’d know that if your head wasn’t filled with mountains of shit.”

“You guys do know we can hear you, right?” Ymir said. Reiner was starting to mutter curses under his breath, and Armin may have not been an expert at Mario Kart, but he knew that definitely wasn’t a good sign.

“I don’t even get why we’re betting in the first place,” Marco sighed. “Reiner’s already lost, like, twenty bucks in the past week alone.”

“Fifty, actually,” Ymir corrected. Marco smacked his forehead.

“So stupid.”

“Not stupid if you know what you’re doing.” She shot Armin and Eren her signature shit-eating grin. “You guys were just too predictable.”

“Kill yourself,” Eren said flatly. Armin lightly swatted at his chest.

“You have got to stop saying that.”

“It’s not like she’s actually gonna do it.”

“Still.”

“Oh my God,” Ymir suddenly shrieked. Reiner buried his face in his hands. “Aha! Beat that, stupid piece of—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hitch hissed. Sasha jumped up and down, and Jean shot up from Marco’s lap with a cheer. “You were literally at the finish line, Reiner.”

“It’s not my fault!” he gasped. “My controller started glitching.”

“Sure,” Connie drawled, holding his hand out to Hitch. “Pay up.”

“Fuck you.” She harshly smacked three dollars into his hand. “I’ll get it next round, I swear.”

“Uh huh.” He gave Sasha and Jean a dollar each. 

Annie grimaced. “If you lose any more money—”

“I won’t. Trust me,” Hitch said.

“Hmmm.” 

Eren nudged Armin’s shoulder, effectively drowning out whatever Ymir said next. “Hey. Are you gonna bet?”

“On something as stupid as this?” Armin snorted. “No.” 

“Figured.” Eren cleared his throat. “I was actually thinking, you know, if they’re being too annoying, we could go to a place more quiet…”

Armin felt his breath hitch. Surely he wasn’t insinuating… That. “Quiet?”

“The kitchen,” Eren said, and Armin immediately wanted to smack himself. Get your shit together. This is all just for show—nobody’s going to follow you anywhere.

“Right. Yeah, sure,” Armin coughed. Eren gave him a sly grin.

“What did you think I meant?”

Armin stood and started to make his journey to the open kitchen, Eren following closely behind. The others were too focused on Ymir and Reiner, who were starting their second round, to even bother paying attention to their exit. Armin tried cooling the heat in his face with his hands, but from the smug look Eren was giving him, he knew he probably wasn’t doing much. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Eren laughed. “You’re the one—”

“Why’d you bring us here, now? I thought you were betting,” Armin interrupted, desperate to change the subject. Eren blew away a loose strand of hair from his face and leaned back against the kitchen island. 

“Nah. Like I said, I only came ‘cause you did.” 

Why didn’t you ask to see me, then? Armin wanted to say, but stopped himself. Because why would he? Everything they were doing was fake. He ignored the twinge of bitterness in his chest and instead opted for, “Well, I’m here now. So?”

Eren crossed his arms. Pursed his lips. “We need to start getting organized. Yeah, we talked about some stuff, sure, but it was all surface level.” He leaned a little closer, and Armin swallowed. “Couples don’t usually ghost each other for almost a week.”

“Four days isn’t almost a week, Eren. We weren’t ghosting each other,” Armin said. “We were just… quieter? And we’re not a real couple.”

“Fake couples, then,” Eren said, a hint of tension in his tone. “You know it takes more than public appearances to make it believable, right? The others are bound to start asking questions eventually.”

“Okay, fine. You have a point,” Armin grumbled, and Eren grinned. “Historia and Mikasa think they’re being slick, but I can tell they’re physically forcing themselves not to bombard me with anything. I swear they were this close to cracking right before we got here.”

“Historia’s resisting? That’s a first.”

“I’m surprised she’s held it in for this long. The fact that she hasn’t managed to tell either Levi or Erwin is kind of concerning, actually,” Armin said. “Anyways. If they’re not saying anything, that means they’re definitely making the others not say anything, either.”

“Exactly. But we both know they’re going to give in one way or another, so before they do, we have to make up some sort of get-together story. Or something.” 

Armin furrowed his brows. “That should be the easiest part, in my opinion—we leave a bit of truth in it to make it believable. Same events lead up to it, all that, and then, you know.”

Eren raised his brows. “‘You know’ what?”

Armin coughed. “We say we realized we still had feelings the whole time, worked things out, and came to the conclusion of starting over after lots of consideration.”

Eren nodded, not seeming phased by Armin’s explanation, which was kind of irritating. He didn’t even know why it was bothersome, which irritated him even more. Those words didn’t have any truth to them. Still, though—saying something like that wasn’t exactly casual. Or maybe Armin was too in his own head to think logically, at the moment; all of this still felt like some weird hallucination he’d conjured up.

“Good enough. Hopefully they don’t ask for that many details, though.”

“You know Ymir will.”

“And I don’t give a shit about what she does,” Eren said. Armin glanced at the TV—Ymir was definitely going to be winning this round again. “I will literally go over there right now and openly bet on Reiner if it means pissing her off.”

Armin resisted the urge to facepalm. It was always like this with those two—every few months, they’d go through a “we hate each other” phase for ultimately no reason other than just because—and then they would act like nothing happened out of nowhere and repeat the cycle over and over again. He had no idea why they did this, and, frankly, he was much better off not knowing for the sake of his own sanity.

“Please do not.”

“Not even two bucks?”

“Is it really that worth it?”

“Yes,” Eren insisted. 

“The last time you bet on something, we almost lost your car.”

Armin smiled coyly at the blush now glowing on Eren’s cheeks. “That was totally different, and you know it.”

“You getting drunk and openly declaring to a bar that you could do a handstand, swearing on your car, then betting on said car with some random guy and then falling flat on your face in front of everyone is a bet, is it not?” Armin said innocently, batting his eyelashes. “So, technically speaking, they are in fact the same.”

“You’re such a little shit,” Eren said, but his voice was soft. “I don’t even know how you remember all that. You were just as drunk as me.”

“All I’m hearing are lies.”

“You almost threw up all over my shirt. Mikasa and I had to take you to the bathroom so you could throw up, and then you started crying about how much you loved us and how much you wanted to cut your hair. I started crying too because I didn’t want you to do it.”

Armin grimaced, uneasiness seizing him at the thought of his hair looking like that . He’d never comprehend how he managed to go almost nineteen years of his life without realizing how awful it looked. “Thank God I did anyway. I looked like a coconut.”

Eren gasped as if he’d just personally offended him. “Nuh uh.”

“‘Nuh uh?’”

“I love your hair,” said Eren, like it was obvious. Armin’s heart may or may have not skipped a beat. “It’s like—like Rapunzel’s. Golden and pretty.”

Armin blinked. “Rapunzel?”

“The Disney princess.”

“I know who Rapunzel is, Eren,” Armin said, flush creeping across his cheeks. How the hell does he say shit like this like it’s nothing? “I really don’t see it.” He held a strand of his hair between his fingers. “It’s literally straw.”

“It’s majestic, that’s what it is,” Eren grinned, and Armin felt his breath catch in his throat. “Tale as old as timeeee—”

“That’s Beauty and the Beast,” Armin snickered.

“It’s the same thing. They’re both about time, or whatever.”

“Armin,” Historia shouted suddenly. A smirk was forming on her face, and Armin instantly knew she was going to say something that pissed him off. “Je peux voir tes yeux de biche d'ici. Reprends-toi.”

Armin’s cheeks reddened. At least Eren couldn’t understand what she said—they always switched to French when they didn’t want to be overheard. Levi had made sure they were fluent in the language by the time they were eight; it was apparently some tradition his great uncle started, and it was the only one he ever really kept up from his side of the family. “Pas du tout, mais okay.”

“What’s she saying?” Eren asked. 

Armin cleared his throat. “Nothing you need to worry about. She’s just being her annoying self, as usual.”

“Abruti. Si tu veux baver comme ça, fais-le en privé, s'il te plaît,” Historia continued. “Je vais vomir.”

“Je m'en fous,” Armin retorted.

“Ne m'oblige pas à venir te gifler.”

“Is she making fun of us?” Eren whispered. Armin snorted.

“How’d you know?”

“You do this thing with your face,” he explained. “Like, whenever you get irritated, your nose gets all scrunched up.” 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Armin lied. Eren grinned.

“At least you look cute doing it.” 

Before Armin could respond to whatever that was, Eren’s gaze suddenly flickered to the others, then back to him. “Hey, Armin?”

“Hm?”

“They’re all watching us now.”

Armin didn’t even spare a glance in that direction, much too focused on the look Eren was giving him. He could feel his heart-rate leap to concerning heights, that thump, thump, thump thundering in his ears. “Oh.”

He registered the touch of Eren’s fingers just barely grazing his cheek, lingering over a loose strand of hair against his forehead. Looking up, he caught his eyes trained to his lips. A silent plea. 

Without a second thought, Armin pulled Eren down by the collar of his shirt and kissed him, squeezing his eyes shut and savoring the warmth that bloomed in his stomach. Eren’s hand cupped his cheek, slightly tilting Armin’s head and pressing harder against his lips. More. Armin wrapped his arms around Eren’s neck, skin hot to the touch, the scent of his cologne making Armin’s head spin.  More, more—

“For the love of God and all things holy, could you please get a room?”

Armin stilled, flush flickering against his neck, and Eren pulled away, turning to glare at Historia, who was watching them with a look that said, really, guys? Jean shared the same expression, except his was much more disgusted than disappointed. Connie and Sasha started hollering, and Mikasa looked like she was going to start laughing any second. Marco was very obviously trying to hide his own laugh with his hand; Hitch, however, was giggling without shame. Even Annie, who was usually so stoic, had her brows raised to her hairline. Thankfully, Bertholdt seemed to have gone to the restroom, and Ymir and Reiner were way too focused on their game to be paying attention to anything else. That made three less witnesses, but Armin still felt like he was going to dig himself into a hole and never resurface.

“Do you not see that I’m busy?” Eren asked flatly. Historia grimaced.

“You practically eating his face is seriously the last thing I wanna see right now. Or ever, for that matter.”

“So look away,” he said simply.

“You’re literally right in my line of sight.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Can I please kick his ass already?” Jean asked loudly. Armin pulled away from Eren completely and tried to calm the rapid beat of his heart in his chest. Shit.

Eren shot Jean a glare. “Fuck off. I wasn’t even talking to you.”

“You’re in my line of sight, too.”

“I don’t give two—”

“Can we all just calm down, please?” Armin said, hoping his voice didn’t sound too breathless. “Eren, they kind of have a point.”

“Isn’t that the whole point, though?” Eren murmured, low enough for only them to hear. Which was true, obviously, but they couldn’t exactly tell that to the others without blowing their cover.

“We did our part,” Armin said. Eren reached for his hand, but Armin began walking back; the thought of touching him again sent electrical currents up his brain, and being caught making out in front of their friends was already embarrassing enough. He didn’t want them to see the way his cheeks flushed, or the way his breaths came in short, or somehow feel the rattles of his never-resting heart. Feelings he thought were lost to him that night one year ago.

The last thing he needed was Eren noticing, too.

—

By the time Ymir and Reiner were on their eighth round, it was nearing 9:30, and Armin would admit he was kind of getting invested. Eren, too, if the shouts and cheers whenever Reiner managed to overtake Ymir in the race were anything to go by. They were still sitting next to each other on the couch; close, but not too close, and Armin didn’t know whether to be grateful or bury his face in his hands and start screaming.

So far, Ymir was in the lead by two points, and the amount of money being bet was slowly but surely increasing by the minute. He’d never seen her or Reiner look this focused, and it was kind of funny watching them get this competitive over Mario Kart. He was brought out of his thoughts by Mikasa, who tapped his shoulder. She and Sasha had migrated to the other side of the couch a little into the fourth round.

“You’re good?” she whispered. Armin raised a brow.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Nothing,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I just haven’t seen you this flustered in ages.” She poked his cheek. “You’re still so red.”

“Am I actually?” He swallowed and pulled up his jacket so that its collar sat against his face. “Jesus.”

“Nobody’s paying attention,” she snorted. “Look at them. They’re so into the game they haven’t realized how silent they’ve gotten.”

“Sasha looks like she’s going to piss her pants,” he whispered. Mikasa smiled fondly, eyes creasing at the corners, and Armin found himself smiling, too. Her being happy and content was one of the few things that truly mattered to him most, and he’d never seen her glow this much before Sasha asked her out on the last day of senior year. The idiot had had it in her head that, if Mikasa rejected her, at least she’d never have to see her again, but little did she know Mikasa had been harboring a crush on her for ages. To this day, he didn’t know how neither of them had noticed the others’ stupid antics. It’d been so obvious he’d had to physically force himself not to say anything.

“She said she’d take me out to a fancy dinner if she won,” she mused. “I know she will either way, but it’s still funny how worked up she is about it.” 

“You know she just wants to impress you, right?” Armin murmured. “It’s like a rush of dopamine for her every time you sing her praises.”

She raised a brow. “Dopamine?”

“It’s a hormone. When it’s triggered, it releases into your brain and gives you a small burst of happiness,” Armin shrugged. “Every time you compliment her, she looks like she’s going to combust. Her eyes get all wide and shiny. If that’s not a rush of dopamine, then I don’t know what is.”

Mikasa’s cheeks pinkened. “How do you know all this, exactly?”

“‘Cause I pay attention to things.”

“Or you’re just a nerd,” she teased. He stuck his tongue out at her.

“You’re the one who asked.”

“I did,” she sighed, repositioning herself so that her head rested against his chest. He wrapped both his arms around her shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around his torso. “What gives you a dopamine rush?”

Armin snorted. “Miks, it’s not really something you can track.”

“Still.” She looked up and grinned. “Tell me at least one thing.”

He stopped to think for a second. “You.” Her grin widened. “Historia, Levi, Erwin.” He hesitated, eyes darting to the boy beside him, whose full attention was devoted to the TV. “Eren. Our friends.”

“ Sap.” She patted his cheek. “You give me a dopamine rush, too.”

An abrupt scream came from all their friends. He looked over at the TV, and, much to his surprise, Reiner had won against Ymir. Connie, Jean, and Sasha looked like they were going to start crying; Hitch, Bertholdt, and Eren, on the other hand, looked like they were going to grab Reiner by the cheeks and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. Historia was shaking her head with a small smile on her face, sharing a look with Marco, who was patting a comforting hand against Jean’s back. Annie hadn’t even looked up from her phone.

Mikasa raised her brows. “Huh. I was not expecting that.”

“How the fuck is that even possible!?” Ymir shouted, Reiner cackling loudly beside her. “This shit is rigged, I’m telling you, there’s actually no fucking way—”

“Rigged my ass,” Hitch whooped, snatching the five dollar bill left sitting on Connie’s side. He fell back against the couch pillows, smacking his hands to the side of his head. “Told you I’d get it, babe.”

Annie kissed her cheek, which caused Hitch’s face to morph into a color so red Armin couldn’t help but laugh. “I had no doubts.”

“Didn’t you literally say you thought Reiner wasn’t gonna win, like, two rounds ago?” Marco said. She shot him a deathly look, and he gulped. “You know what? Forget I said anything.”

“Look at Ymir’s face,” Eren said gleefully, his expression equivalent to that of a small child finding the toy of his dreams in a store. Ymir lifted her controller in the air. Historia was grinning fully, now, watching her girlfriend with a spark in her eyes that Armin knew meant she wasn’t gonna have any part in stopping this whatsoever.

“I’ll do it, Jeager. Don’t fucking try me.”

Marco let out a nervous laugh. “Guys, let’s just all take a breather—”

“Throw it,” Jean shouted. Marco swatted his shoulder. “Ow.”

“What time is it?” Armin asked Mikasa, doing his best to drown out the growing argument in the background. She sat up, breaking away from his embrace, and checked her phone.

“Nine-fifty-six.” She furrowed her brows. “You can go if you’re getting tired. Sasha can drop off Historia, Ymir, and I.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad just leaving you guys here.”

“You don’t have to feel bad about anything. Really, we don’t mind at all.”

Armin thinned his lips, a yawn beginning to bubble in the back of his throat. It was getting a bit late. Besides, he still had to finish his essay, which was going to take him at least another hour and a half, and he had a morning class tomorrow, and Levi and Erwin were probably staying up to make sure he came home safe because they were stubborn like that. Leaving now wouldn’t be that big of a deal, anyways. He wasn’t betting anything, and, even if he left early, their upcoming messages in the group chat would tell him who won either way.

“Thanks, Miks,” he said, picking out his phone from the crack in the pillows and making his way off the couch. Eren turned around immediately, hand tugging the sleeve of Armin’s jacket.

“You’re leaving?”

Armin swallowed. “Er, yeah. It’s getting kind of late.”

“It’s only nine,” Eren frowned.

“Almost ten, actually.”

“Still.” He tugged again. “We’ve gotta see who wins, at least.”

“I have work to do,” Armin said, squeezing Eren’s wrist. “ It’s gonna take me forever to finish, and I have a class at eight-thirty tomorrow.”

Eren looked at him for a few moments, eyes narrowed in the way Armin knew he wanted to retort, before he sighed. “Fine. Drive safe, okay?”

Armin reached down, cupped his face, and pecked the tip of his nose, satisfaction pooling in his stomach at the crimson now glazing Eren’s cheeks. “I’ll text you when I get home. For real this time,” he added in a much quieter tone. Eren grinned.

“Historia?” She looked up. “You’re okay with getting a ride home?”

“You’re going?”

“Yeah.” 

She nodded. “Tell Pa and Dad I say hi.”

“Bye, Armin!” Connie shouted. The others waved their goodbyes, too, promising to update him on the winner of this entire fiasco, and he got one last cheek-kiss from Eren (which almost prompted his knees to give out) before he was on his way.

He was home within twenty minutes, his parents still in the same place he’d left them hours ago. Both their heads shot up at his arrival.

“I didn’t know masks took that long,” Levi said suspiciously. Armin scratched the back of his neck.

“We ended up going to Connie’s place after. Sorry for not telling you.”

“Hmmm. You had fun?” 

“Yeah,” Armin said, face growing hot at the memories of a certain kiss flashing across his mind. Erwin was still silent, a weird look Armin couldn’t quite decipher on his face that made him feel like he was being picked apart under a microscope. “I’m gonna go work now, so…”

“Okay,” Erwin said carefully. He shared a glance with Levi. “Are you sure you’re good?”

Armin resisted the urge to groan. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? First Historia and Mikasa, now you. I’m fine, Dad.”

He held his hands in the air. “I was just checking. You looked a bit… well.”

“Well what?”

“Nevermind.” He turned back to his iPad. “We won’t keep you. Let us know if you need anything.”

Armin wanted to question him further, but the clock was ticking, and that essay wasn’t going to finish itself. He’d just have to pry answers from them tomorrow. He said goodnight, tossed his keys into the bowl on the side table, and strided up the stairs. It was only after he sat at his desk and pulled out his laptop that he remembered the promise he’d made to Eren before he left.

Armin (10:18 p.m.)

I’m home

Eren responded almost immediately. Armin shook his head with a chuckle. Of course.

Eren

omg you texted

Armin

I did say I would

And, before you mention last time

Eren

:/

Armin

I am sorry for that

Really

Eren

apology accepted

Armin

:) 

Did anyone win yet btw?

Eren

OH YEAH so

ymir fucking won

like just now

im so mad

Eren sent an image.

my punishment was taking a picture of her with the medal connie made

Armin

LMAOOO

He made a medal?????? 😭

Eren

yes and it’s made of PAPER

are u really that surprised

Armin

Nope

I actually thought he’d do something more drastic

Eren

honestly same

anyways

im about to leave his place

so

Armin

Okayy

I have to work, too

Eren

okayayysys

i’ll text you soon

?

Armin

Yes

Goodnight, Eren

Stay safe

Eren

i will yk me

Armin

Mhmmmm

Eren

dont stay up too late

Armin

I won’t

Eren

better not

okay goodnight fr now

Armin

Goodnight :)) 

Eren

:)

Chapter Text

Eren (Just now, 12:34 p.m.)

armin i’m literally DYINGGGG please help

this assignment is so annoying

Armin

Eren, focus!!!

I believe in you!!!

Eren

ok well i don’t

tell me something interesting

pleaseeeeee

Armin

Listen

As much as I would LIKE to text you 

Mikasa’s starting to give me dirty looks

“Armin."

He looked up from where he sat on the wooden patio. Today was surprisingly warm, a nice contrast to all the cold weather they’d been getting lately, so Mikasa suggested that they spend a bit of time outdoors. She’d just finished putting on sunscreen and was stretching her legs next to the pool. “Are you gonna actually swim with me or are you gonna be staring all mushy-eyed at your phone the whole time?”

Armin furrowed his brows. “I don’t have mushy eyes. What even is that?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t, actually, but okay.” Armin glanced back to Eren’s typing bubble. “Eren’s just asking about us, that’s all.”

“Ah.” Her lips quirked up. “That explains it.”

Armin's cheeks heated. The texting had become a new thing ever since the whole Mario Kart incident a few days ago. But they weren’t talking for hours, or anything, just little blips like Eren asking how he slept, or Armin responding with stupid questions about his classes (with the excuse that it was only because Eren asked first, of course), which then turned into a daily occurrence that had Armin checking his phone as soon as he woke up to see Eren’s good morning message pop up on his screen.

But it was all for planning and keeping up appearances. Obviously.

Eren

ok well idc

also ur hanging out without me??

Armin

You’re supposed to be doing your work, Eren

And we’re swimming at my parents’ house

Eren

oh

Armin

Yeah

Eren’s typing bubble popped up for a few agonizing moments, then disappeared. 

Way to make things awkward, Armin thought, lightly smacking his forehead. Stupid.

He heard Mikasa loudly sigh. “Tell him to come over here. You look like a kicked puppy.”

“But—”

“Levi and Erwin are out.” She stood and stretched out her shoulders. “And even if they come back while he’s still here, as long as you guys don’t do anything couple-y, I don’t think they’ll ask.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” She gave a small smile. “The three of us haven’t hung out alone in a while. I miss you idiots.”

Well, she did have a point. He fiddled with the side of his phone case. If they wanted to be convincing, they’d have to actually do things in front of other people. One hangout with their friends wouldn’t be enough of a show. And, more importantly, this was the perfect opportunity to finally get Mikasa to crack and start exploding with her questions. Her obvious resistance was getting a bit painful to watch; best to get it out of the way now and not later in front of their friends, or, God forbid, Historia. 

“And you call me the sap,” he grinned. 

She waved her hand. “Text him, or I will.”

“Fine, fine.”

Armin

You can come if you want

Eren’s response was almost immediate.

Eren

but i thought u didn’t want levi or erwin knowing

Armin

I mean they won’t care that you’re here

We just can’t 

You know

Tell them anything

Eren

well yeah obviously

ur sure they won’t care?

Armin

Positive

Eren

okay then

i’ll be there in like ten minutes 😛

Armin

Don’t forget your swimsuit!!!

Eren

tsk tsk

thinking about me in a bathing suit

how scandalous, armin

Armin's face cranked up to an embarrassingly high temperature. Thankfully, Mikasa hadn’t noticed, still focused on her little exercises.

Armin

You KNOW that’s not what I meant

Dear God

You’re so lewd

Eren

ik ur face is prob so red rn i’m dying

Armin

Shut up

It’s not

Eren

it so isssss

Armin

Bye, Eren

The door’s open when you get here

You don’t have to knock

Eren

byeeee ;)

“Please push him in as soon as he gets here,” Armin said with a cough, turning off his phone and making his way over to where Mikasa was. She gave him a curious look as he took off his white T-shirt and threw it onto one of the chairs behind them. 

“Why?”

“He’s being annoying,” Armin muttered. 

“Or he said something that got you all blushy?”

He ignored her and knelt down to check the temperature of the pool. “Did you turn on the heater? It’s really warm.”

“I think the sun did that for us,” Mikasa said bluntly, and he laughed. “Do you want me to do your back?”

“Yeah, please, thanks.”

She grabbed the bottle of sunscreen and lathered his back in it. “Relax, ‘Min.”

“I am,” he retorted.

“Your whole back is messed up,” she murmured as she started to rub the product into his skin. “And your shoulders are really tense. Have you been sleeping properly?”

“Yes.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes, Miks. I’m fine.”

She began to massage his neck, and it was nothing short of heavenly. Armin let his eyes close. “Mhm. Fine my ass.”

He winced when she hit a particularly knotted spot. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” Her grip became less tight and more calculated. “You know, you’re not the only one acting weird.”

“Hm?” Armin said, his brain a little fuzzy from all the tension being let out of his muscles.

“Eren’s been all rigid, too. I mentioned your name yesterday and he looked like his head was gonna explode.” 

Shit. Armin nervously laughed. “Maybe you were just seeing things— Ow, Mikasa!”

“That’s for lying,” she tutted. 

“I’m not lying.”

“Did you two have a fight or something?” Much to his relief, she started going easy on him again, her hands moving from his neck to his shoulders. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong. You’re a terrible liar.”

“Was the massage just so you could coax something out of me?” he asked warily.

“Yes. Now answer the question.”

He snorted. “At least you admitted it.”

“Armin.”

About a million different excuses he’d rehearsed swirled around in his head. He could keep playing dumb, but how she’d take it was something he didn’t want to experiment with. Asking her to leave it would be shitty, because then it would seem like he didn’t trust her, but he did. More than anyone. He also didn’t want her to bother Eren with it, because, well, Eren wasn’t exactly the type to make believable things up on the spot. So, after weighing between the options, he decided, “It’s new. We’re taking things slow.”

“You guys were literally making out in front of all of us at Connie’s place.”

He blushed. “That’s different. It just happened.”

“Mhmmm.” 

“A week isn’t exactly enough to smooth everything over. We’re still working and talking things out.”

She pulled away, and Armin rolled his shoulders, pleased to find that he could actually do so without pain shooting up his spine. “And have you? Worked things out, I mean.” 

“I think so.” He shot her a smile. “Thanks, Miks. I feel great.”

She gave two quick pecks to the side of his head. “Anytime you want. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

You have no idea, he wanted to say. “Nope. I promise you, we’re fine. You’d be the first person I’d go to if anything happened.”

“I’m telling Historia you said that,” she grinned.

“Please do not.”

Mikasa dove into the pool a few moments later, and Armin opted to sit by the edge and dip his feet into the water, not quite enthusiastic about getting his hair wet and feeling it stick to his neck. Speaking of, he’d have to get a trim soon. His bangs were beginning to fall into his eyes, and it was getting annoying to brush them away every time he blinked.

“It’s actually a lot cooler than I expected,” Mikasa noted when she resurfaced. Her skin, now shiny from all the sunscreen she’d put on, was gleaming in the sun. “You’re gonna get burned if you sit out for too long.”

“Okay, listen, that was one time.”

“Your shoulders are already turning red,” she teased. He responded by kicking a wave of water in her direction.

They went back and forth like that for a while, until Mikasa ended up floating around on her back and listening to Armin explain the plot of the book he was currently reading. As he talked, he stole nervous glances at his phone. It’d been fifteen minutes since he and Eren had last texted, and he was starting to wonder if the other would even show up at all.

“I really don’t understand how you manage to take in all this information without your brain exploding,” Mikasa told him. Twenty minutes now. “My head already hurts and you haven’t even gotten to the climax.”

“It makes more sense when you read it,” Armin explained. “I’m not the best at explaining all the magic systems.”

“Sure. When are you gonna write a book, huh?”

“I keep telling him that,” said a voice from the patio. There Eren was, closing the glass sliding-door behind him. His hair was loose and flowy from the slight breeze, and a towel was draped over his bare shoulder and equally bare chest. He began to make his way over to them, acting like the mere sight of him hadn’t just rendered Armin completely speechless. He could see the way Eren’s shoulders bobbed with every step, the flash of his toned stomach every time the towel bounced back and forth. From the way Mikasa was snickering, he knew his staring was obvious. He shut his mouth, not realizing he’d had it open, and forced his gaze onto the ripples forming in the water from his feet.

God, why did Eren have to look like that? As if their arrangement wasn’t hard enough to deal with already. Just breathe in and out, he thought hopelessly. Don’t think about his face, or his hair, or his—

The touch to his arm may as well have burned away any surrounding nerve-endings. He raised his head and found Eren looking down at him with a grin, a few strands of his brown hair tickling the curve of Armin’s cheek. He tried to say something, but his brain had decided to shut down completely. 

“Hi, Armin.”

“Hi,” Armin blurted, grateful to have even been able to speak at all. Pull yourself together, idiot.

“Sorry I’m so late. Traffic was a bitch.” He kissed Armin’s forehead. “What’s this about a book?”

“He was just telling me about all the nerdy books he’s been reading. You know, the usual,” Mikasa said smugly. Armin shot her a look, and her lips curled into a knowing grin.

Eren rested his chin against the top of Armin’s head. “I think it’s cute.” 

“You think everything he does is cute.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” Eren said. Armin could feel his stomach flip and turn, even though every incoming thought in his mind kept screaming, he’s only saying this because Mikasa’s here. Stop taking any of it to heart.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Mikasa said, rolling her eyes. “Levi and Erwin are gonna get back soon, and the last thing I need is for them to see the both of you basically eye-fucking each other in the pool.”

“Mikasa!” Armin sputtered. Eren just laughed, the low hum of his voice rattling Armin’s entire body. “We’re not— doing that.”

“Eye-fucking?” she said innocently.

“You’re sounding a lot like Historia and Connie right now.”

“I’m just stating the truth. Nothing wrong with that.”

“You’re stating made-up things in your head, that’s what.”

“If I’m gonna third-wheel, I may as well make fun of you,” she sighed. “Eren, please push him into the pool. Maybe the water will snap him out of his little dilemma.”

“I don’t have a—” 

Armin screeched as Eren hoisted him up from the ground like it was nothing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. They were now nose-to-nose, and Armin could feel every inch of Eren’s warm skin pressing against his. His breaths were starting to come in short, but Eren didn’t look bothered at all, a playful smirk on his lips. “Eren. Put me down right now, or I swear to God.”

“Nah,” Eren mused. “Your face is so red.”

“It’s the sun,” Armin said stupidly. “Yeah.”

Eren laughed. “The sun. Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

Eren kissed his cheek. “Sorry for this, love, but duty calls.”

We’re doing pet-names now? Armin faintly thought before Eren jumped and plunged both of them into the cool water. Armin clutched onto Eren's shoulders, his scream muffled by the water, and was pulled up a moment later. Eren was wheezing so hard his whole body shook. 

Armin lightly hit his shoulder. “Asshole.”

“You love it,” Eren grinned, his arms still firmly wrapped around Armin’s waist. The droplets clinging to his hair dripped onto the tip of Armin’s nose. 

“Finally,” Mikasa groaned. “He refused to get in this whole time.”

“I hate when my hair gets wet,” Armin complained. “Now it’s all in my face.”

The three of them migrated to the more shallow part of the pool, Eren shifting Armin around so that he now sat snugly in his lap. Armin had no idea where to put his hands, seeing as every mere touch to Eren’s skin sent scorching hot through his veins, so he carefully rested his head against Eren’s shoulder and crossed his arms. Eren raised a brow at him, but thankfully didn’t comment any further.

Mikasa propped her feet up on Armin’s knees and leaned her back against the pool wall. “Historia’s been nagging me about convincing you to let her trim it again, just so you know.”

Glasses of red wine, scissors, and the small scar sitting on the back of his neck came to Armin in flashes, and he shuddered. Two years ago, when he’d first wanted to cut his hair, Historia had offered to be the one to do it, and he, in all his dumbassery-glory, had agreed. The result? Choppy, uneven cuts of blond hair on his head, a cut on his neck that had taken half a roll of gauze to stop bleeding, and an accidental face-time call to his horrified parents in the midst of all the chaos. In his defense, he hadn’t known that they were going to get a bit tipsy beforehand, but, still. Scissors and Historia were a combo that should never, ever go together, no matter the circumstances. To this day, he still made her lock every pair she had in her house in a safe drawer whenever he came over.

“He looks like he’s gonna piss himself,” Eren whispered. 

“You would, too, if you were there when she did it the last time,” Armin muttered. “Tell her that I would rather die than let her do anything of the sort.”

Mikasa exhaled through her nose. “You know that’s not gonna stop her whatsoever, right?” 

“She can beg all she wants. I am not doing that again, thank you very much.”

“She cut mine, though,” Mikasa said, holding up a strand of jet-black hair. Armin grinned fondly. He didn’t know why, but the two of them had always managed to have matching haircuts one way or another. “And it doesn’t look bad. At least, I don’t think so.”

“You always look good, Miks,” Armin told her, and pink blossomed underneath her cheeks. “And she didn’t butcher it because she wasn’t drunk.”

“She cut your hair when she was drunk?” she gasped. 

“I didn’t tell you?”

“No?”

“The only reason I knew was because he kept sending me a million texts an hour,” Eren grinned. Armin’s cheeks turned a rosy pink. Another combination that definitely didn’t go well was drunk Armin and his phone; specifically, Eren’s contact. “They were all either hearts or ‘I miss you.’”

“He could’ve been sober sending that. You’re both disgusting.”

“I’ll just get it done at the local barber’s again,” Armin said in an attempt to change the subject. “No biggie.”

“I can do it for you,” Mikasa offered. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you even know how to cut hair?”

“I’ll figure it out. And it saves money.”

He sighed at the pleading look on her face, resistance holding him for about three seconds before he finally surrendered. If there was anyone he trusted with his hair, it was her. “Fine. Just don’t make it look like a bowl, and we’re good.”

“Promise,” she said, holding out her pinkie. He reached out and laced hers with his. “By the way, did Connie tell you guys about the thing he’s throwing yet?”

Armin suppressed a groan. Another party? He tried to sneak a glance at Eren, but found that the other’s eyes were already on him, a mutual understanding passing between them. Maybe they could both do without parties for a long, long time.

“It’s literally not even been one week since the last one.”

“I meant for Halloween,” she clarified. That was only a week and a bit away, and even just thinking about it made Armin’s stomach turn. If his sister’s parties were crazy, then Connie’s were like willingly walking straight into the pit of hell. At least the date fell around the middle of their Fall Break, which gave them all time to readjust after all the alcohol they were bound to drink. “Sasha’s already picking out our costumes.”

Armin grinned. “The fact that she even got you to agree to going is crazy. After last year you swore you’d never step foot in Connie’s place ever again.”

“It gives me the excuse to dress up,” Mikasa sighed. As much as she tried to deny it, Armin knew she was still secretly fond of the Goth style she’d worn all throughout highschool. When they got to university, Mikasa claimed that it was too time-consuming to manage with all their school work, which could’ve been true, except Armin suspected she was a bit embarrassed to keep it up in front of all the new college kids. “She said something about these characters— Mar-something?”

“Marceline?” Armin asked.

“Yeah, her. And a princess?” Mikasa scrunched her nose. “She’s obsessed with them. And I know how much she likes doing these things, so I left it up to her.”

“Whipped,” Eren snickered. She flicked water at his face.

“You’re one to talk, seeing as Armin is quite literally in your lap right now,” she pointed out. He shrugged.

“I’m not the one doing matching couple costumes for Halloween.”

Armin raised a brow. It would be kind of weird if he didn’t comment, wouldn’t it? Seeing as they were supposed to be “dating.” 

“So you don’t want to match with me, then?”

Mikasa started to laugh. If Armin were anyone else, he would’ve thought Eren was genuinely guilty about saying something like that, from the way his eyes slightly widened and his mouth twisted into an apologetic frown. 

But it’s not genuine, because it’s fake, said the voice in his head.

Let a guy dream, Armin thought miserably. Then he mentally smacked himself for ever thinking such a thing. 

“I never said that.”

“Mhmmmm.”

Eren prepped a few light kisses to Armin’s cheek, then his forehead, then his nose. “I didn’t mean us. I meant her.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was obvious. 

Mikasa glared at him. “You literally did matching costumes with me in seventh grade, you little shit.”

“The seventh grade. That was, like, a million years ago.”

“Still did it.”

Armin snorted, remembering those three dreadful months they’d dated for. He’d been heartbroken, to say the least, given that he’d had a secret crush on Eren since the day they’d met in that old park down the road, but had forced himself to be fine with it because Mikasa was happy, and he’d always put her first before anything, no matter what. In hindsight, he’d thought things were going well, until Mikasa and Eren both told him that they were much better off as friends and that the relationship wasn’t working out in the way they’d expected. Much to his relief, things did go back to normal after that, and it was now something they joked about from time-to-time. 

“You didn’t let me pick out the costumes, though,” Eren grumbled.

“No offense, but your fashion taste in grade seven sucked.”

“Just grade seven?” Armin said, grinning at the offended look on Eren’s face.

“You’re agreeing with her?”

Armin hesitated for a split second before reaching for Eren’s hand and pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it. “Let’s face it, we all looked like shit in middle school.”

“I still remember those chunky glasses you had,” Mikasa snorted. “They took up your entire face.”

“And your millions of chain necklaces.”

“And Eren’s eyeliner.”

Eren blushed. “Listen, we all go through a phase—”

“The ‘phase’ that lasted until senior year,” Armin laughed. “I thought it was cute, though.”

Eren’s face turned even redder, and Armin’s heart did a little swoop in his chest. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“And you call me whipped,” Mikasa muttered. She squinted at the sun. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Last I checked it was, like, twelve-fifty-something,” said Armin.

“So around one, then. Perfect.” She stood and shook the water out of her hair. “Do you guys want me to make you lemonade?”

Eren perked up. “With extra sugar?”

“You’re gonna end up passed out if you drink that much at once,” Mikasa said gruffly. “But fine. I’ll add extra sugar. Armin?”

He shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. Do you want me to get the squeezer machine we have?”

“I know where it is.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do anything weird when I’m gone.”

“Mikasa!” Armin hissed, Eren’s cackles echoing around the backyard. “You’re so—”

She kicked a wave of water in their direction, and it drenched Armin’s hair all over again. “If Levi and Erwin come home before I’m done, I’ll warn you.”

Eren raised a brow. “How?”

“I just will. Give me ten minutes,” she said as she grabbed her towel from one of the chairs, and then she was making her way to the sliding-door. 

Armin swallowed. The nervousness that always accompanied him whenever he and Eren were alone seized him by the chest, and, to break what was most likely going to turn into awkward silence without Mikasa around, he said, “You should really listen to her, you know. The last time you had that much sugar it took you three hours to calm down.”

Eren tilted his head down so that they were face to face, and Armin’s breath hitched. “Worried about me, are we?”

“It’s logic,” Armin said breathlessly. “Just logic.”

“Mhmmm. Logic, he says,” Eren grinned. 

“Mais je perds la logique chaque fois que je suis avec toi,” Armin muttered, avoiding Eren’s gaze, because he had to get it out of his system somehow, and he’d be damned if Eren was able to understand anything he was saying.

“What’d you say just now?”

“A million curse words,” Armin lied. 

“Those didn’t sound like curse words.”

Armin’s brows raised. “And how would you know?”

“I’ve known you since we were eight,” said Eren. “I may be an idiot, but I pick up on some stuff.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Armin sighed, reaching up and brushing some of the hair out of Eren’s face. “I don’t know why you think that.”

“Do you see me speaking two languages?”

“Speaking two languages doesn’t automatically make you smarter, Eren,” Armin giggled. “What kind of—”

“Merde,” Eren said, completely butchering the pronunciation, and Armin immediately started cackling, to the point where he shook so hard Eren began to move back and forth. “What? It means shit, right?”

“Give me a second,” Armin rasped. “Oh my God.”

“You’re so mean. Here I am, showing off my learning, and you’re making fun of me.”

“Where’d you even get that from?” Armin asked, letting out a few more giggles. “I don’t even curse that much.”

“Levi,” Eren said, deadpan, and Armin started to laugh again. “I swear. Everytime he drops something, he says it a billion times.”

“How’d you know it meant ‘shit?’”

“I looked it up,” he said proudly. “And there was another one, I think— stop.”

Armin couldn’t help the new string of wheezes leaving him. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re laughing.”

“And is that a bad thing?”

“No. I like it when you laugh,” Eren said seriously, and Armin had to resist the urge to grab him by the face and press their lips together. What the hell is wrong with me? “Putain. That means fuck, right?”

“Wow, Eren,” Armin grinned. “I’m impressed. You’re practically fluent. Better than me and Historia combined.”

“I’m just that good,” Eren sighed. “Tell me something else in French.”

Armin cocked his head. “Why?”

“No reason,” Eren replied, red prickling under tan skin again. “It’s for, uh, learning purposes.”

“Learning purposes?”

“Yeah. I’m learning French.”

Armin blinked. “Since when?”

“Not important,” Eren coughed. “Just say something. It doesn’t matter what.”

Armin thought for a moment, eyes training back to Eren’s lips, before he said, “J'aimerais t'embrasser. J'aimerais t'embrasser jusqu'à ce qu'aucun de nous ne puisse respirer.”

“What does that mean?” Eren whispered.

Armin swallowed. “If you’re so fluent, you can figure it out.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes.” 

Eren brushed his knuckles against Armin’s jaw, and it was then Armin realized how close their faces were, Eren’s breath tickling his face. He leaned in, and, as badly as Armin wanted to meet him halfway, he turned his head into the crook of Eren’s neck just before their lips met, feeling the other’s nose hit his cheek. “Armin?”

“Mikasa’s not here,” Armin blurted out, forcing himself not to give in to that urge, that incessant taunt of move. “And my parents are going to be back soon.”

“Oh.” He didn’t miss the twinge of disappointment in Eren’s voice. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I, uh, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Armin snorted and met his eyes, sincere and green and beautiful. “Not thinking straight?”

“Shut up,” Eren muttered, turning away. The tips of his ears matched the red on his face. “You know what I meant.”

“Sure, Eren,” Armin teased. “But it’s fine. You probably thought she was looking through the window, or something.”

“Mhm,” Eren mumbled. “Totally.”

A sudden bang came from the sliding door, making them practically jump. Eren turned his head to get a look at what was going on, blinking rapidly, and Armin gently poked his shoulder.

“What?”

“It’s… Mikasa?” Eren said warily, narrowing his eyes. Another bang. “She looks like she’s gonna kill us.”

“Huh?” Armin wiggled his way out of Eren’s lap, ignoring his protests. Mikasa was, in fact, still hitting her hand against the glass, her eyes wide and constantly darting between them and the front door. She shouted something Armin couldn’t hear through the glass, and a few seconds later, Levi and Erwin walked into the house, chattering about one thing or the other with bags of groceries in their hands. Eren must’ve spotted them, too, if the way his face paled was anything to go by, because both of them scrambled to opposite sides of the shallow end at the same time, splashing water in every direction and drenching themselves once again. 

Heavy breaths filled the backyard. Armin glanced at the sliding door again, and saw Mikasa talking to his parents with an attempted grin that looked more like a pained grimace, her back tense and sitting against the glass. Armin couldn’t read their lips from where he sat, but he guessed they were asking her a bunch of questions. 

Eren cursed, his eyes still trained to the window. “I think I’m gonna piss myself.”

“Just act normal,” Armin whispered. “They’re not gonna kill you, Eren.”

“What the fuck do you mean by normal?” Eren hissed. 

“Like— I don’t know! How you did every time you came over.”

“Okay, but, you’re forgetting I haven’t seen them in a year—”

The sliding door opened, and Eren clamped his mouth shut. Erwin and Levi stomped into the backyard with equally confused expressions, and Mikasa followed behind them, a sympathetic look on her face. An unfinished glass of lemonade was still in one of her hands.

Levi furrowed his brows, looking between them. “What the hell?”

“Hi, Pa!” Armin beamed, wincing when his voice jumped to an embarrassingly high octave. “How was your grocery run?”

“Fine,” Levi said suspiciously, his hardened gaze landing on Eren, who gulped. “Eren. Long time no see.”

He gave a small wave. “Hi. How, uh, how are you?”

“Same as always. What are you doing in my house?”

Erwin patted Levi’s shoulder and gave Eren a small smile, though it was tight. “Sorry. I think what he was trying to say was that it’s been a while since we’ve, er, seen you here.”

“I invited him,” Armin cut in. “Because he’s my friend.”

“Well, I’d hope so,” Levi muttered. “To do what, exactly?”

“We were just swimming, Pa.”

“Uh huh.”

“I can go—” Eren started, but Erwin waved his hand.

“Nonsense. You’re welcome anytime, Eren.” He squeezed Levi’s shoulder. “Right, Levi?”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, no need to get all high and mighty with me.” 

“Pa,” Armin sighed.

“I was just checking, for God’s sake. I haven’t seen the kid in a year.” He turned to Eren again, his expression a bit softer. “Stay for lunch. We’re making grilled chicken.”

The way he worded it sounded more like an order than a question, but Eren smiled anyways, a bit of the tension leaving his frame. “I’d love to.”

“Good. Come sit inside, then. And do not get the floor wet, please,” he added, eyeing Armin specifically. “The last time you and Historia swam you stained the wood.”

“She stained the wood, but okay.”

Erwin and Levi went inside a moment later, Erwin shooting them one last unreadable look before they left, and Mikasa blew out a breath as soon as they were out of earshot. 

“Well, that went a million times better than I expected. I thought Levi was gonna kill you.” 

“Erwin, too,” Eren shuddered. “I have no idea how they didn’t see us.”

“You can thank me for that,” Mikasa grumbled. “Both of you are so slow.”

“Sorry, Miks,” Armin said sheepishly. He stood and waddled over to Eren, who took his hand to haul himself out of the water. “Let’s go. Levi’s probably gonna want us to get the plates.”

𑁤

By the time they’d dried off and set up the table, the chicken was done and neatly spread across the dining table in small batches. Eren had put on the extra red T-shirt he’d kept in his car, and Armin had changed into sweatpants and a weirdly-oversized black hoodie he’d found in the back of his closet; like his hair, he hated the feeling of wet clothing sticking to his skin, and the thought of sitting in his damp swimming boxers that clung to his thighs sent shivers down his spine. Eren had looked at him with this expression he couldn’t quite decipher when he came down the stairs, and when he asked what was wrong, Eren merely brushed him off. Weird, but Armin didn’t read too much into it.

So far, the lunch was going well. Armin kept eyeing Erwin and Levi, trying to anticipate any sort of unexpected interrogation, but all they did was ask Eren about his parents and how his classes were going. Eren was currently telling them about some assignment on theories and ideologies, eyes gaining that familiar spark whenever he talked about something he was passionate about. Armin couldn’t help but smile at the sight; regardless of their whole big bad act earlier, he knew that his parents had always been fond of Eren, and they seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. 

“You’re not subtle,” Mikasa whispered in his ear. Armin raised a brow.

“Huh?”

“Your eyes are practically hearts.”

Armin blushed. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Well, cut it out, because they’re gonna notice eventually and you know Erwin is gonna figure out something’s up in three seconds.”

Armin swallowed, remembering the look Erwin gave them before they went inside, and mumbled, “I think he already has.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a feeling,” Armin said. “And Levi definitely suspects.”

“Yeah, because you guys were all red and panting as soon as they came outside. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

“Okay, first of all—”

“What are you brats whispering about over there?” Levi interrupted. Armin and Mikasa stilled. “Go on. Tell us, if it’s so important.”

They shared a glance. “It’s nothing,” Mikasa said quickly. “I was just asking him about something dumb.”

Levi narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything else. Armin shot Mikasa a grateful look, and she smiled and squeezed his hand.

Eren continued talking with the occasional glance in Armin’s direction, and Armin refused to meet his eyes after Mikasa’s callout, instead staring at his piece of chicken as he ate. He didn’t know how long they stayed going back and forth like that, but Eren was suddenly interrupted when his phone began to ring.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly as he fished it out of his pocket. “Do you mind—?”

Erwin waved his hand. “Go ahead, it’s no problem.”

Eren mumbled a few more apologies before stumbling out of his seat and into the TV room, far enough away that they couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

Levi hummed. “He really has gotten his shit together, huh? Who would’ve thought.”

“He always had his shit together,” Armin murmured. “Just, er, a bit less organized than now.”

“Which reminds me,” Levi started, and Armin immediately braced himself for whatever the hell he was about to ask. “Since when were you guys hanging out again?”

Armin opened his mouth to answer, but Mikasa beat him to it. “We always have. This is just the first time he’s been here since…” she glanced at Armin. “You know.”

“Since Armin broke up with him?” Levi asked bluntly. Both Armin and Mikasa winced. “I don’t know why you’re getting all tense. He seems fine.”

“Finer than I thought he would be, if I’m going to be honest,” Erwin chimed in. “But I’m glad you were able to get to this point. You weren’t even able to mention his name five months ago.”

Armin hesitated, gripping the sleeves of the hoodie. He breathed in and smelled what he thought was a hint of Eren’s cologne, but it was probably just because Eren had been sitting next to him earlier. “He’s… I mean, he’s my friend, no matter what we are. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I care about him any less.”

The words were mostly just a way to cover up their scheme, but he meant them all the same. Eren was important to him, in a way that he couldn’t exactly describe with words. He wasn’t able to picture life without Eren in it, or picture himself doing anything without Eren by his side, which was why he’d been so messed up after the break-up; one, because he’d obviously still harbored feelings, and, two, because he’d been terrified that it was the end for them. To his relief, time and effort had proved otherwise, but, even if they could never get back to how they were, Eren just being there with him was enough. It would have to be.

Assuming their arrangement wouldn’t mess everything up. Again. He pushed away the thought.

Erwin put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know. And I’m proud of you for getting through it.” He shared a small smile with Levi. “We both are.”

“So corny,” Armin said, embarrassingly feeling his eyes start to prickle. “Thanks, guys.”

Eren came back a moment later, having just ended the call with whoever was on the other end. Armin raised a brow at the solemn look on his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Eren sighed. “It was just mom. She needs help with something, apparently, and it’s urgent, so I can’t stay. I really wish I could.” He gave Erwin and Levi an apologetic look. “Thank you guys so much for the food. It was great.”

“Anytime,” Erwin said, his voice genuine. “It was nice to see you, Eren.”

“Don’t go disappearing for another year, yeah?” Levi added. “And tell Carla I said hi.”

“I will,” Eren promised. 

After Mikasa waved one last goodbye, Armin was leading Eren to the front door by his arm. He opened it, followed Eren outside, and then closed it shut behind them. “That went really well.”

“I’m glad,” Eren said quietly. “I thought they’d hate me, or something.”

Armin frowned. “Why would they hate you?”

“Because— you know.”

“Okay, but you didn’t break up with me. They know that,” Armin sighed. “And even if you did, they wouldn’t hate you unless you did something that was actually bad. Which you didn’t, at all.”

Eren stayed silent for a few seconds, staring at him intently, and Armin faintly wondered if he’d said something wrong, before Eren said, “Do you even remember why?”

“Remember what?” 

“Why we broke up,” Eren coughed. Oh. “Or maybe I just have a shitty memory.”

Armin tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and looked anywhere but at Eren’s face. If only he could say how many times he’d asked himself that, as well; the restless nights spent tossing and turning over that fateful day a year ago, the millions of paragraphs he’d written out in his notes app, the amount of times he’d had to force himself not to call Eren in the middle of the night in a frantic search for answers. But he wouldn’t, because things were too delicate between them already. He refused to mess up everything even more and lose Eren for good. 

“We… did,” Armin said cautiously. It may have been shitty of him to lie, but he knew it was best for both of them. Opening up still-healing wounds wouldn’t benefit either of them. “We just did.”

“I guess that’s a reason,” Eren muttered after a bout of excruciatingly painful silence. He furrowed his brows. “By the way, you’re wearing my hoodie.”

Armin froze. “Huh?”

“My hoodie.” Eren pointed at it. “I thought I lost it.”

That’s when it all clicked; why it’d seemed so much bigger than usual, that distinct smell of Eren’s cologne, how weird Eren had acted when he’d seen him come into the living room with it. Armin must’ve missed it in his stuff when he’d first moved back into his parents’ house; or maybe he’d kept it in the midst of all the chaos, as some sort of link to that old apartment. He didn’t know. Everything from that time was basically a blur.

He swallowed, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks, and immediately started to take it off, as much as he didn’t want to, because keeping it on would be stupid. They weren’t actually dating, nobody knew it was Eren’s hoodie, and he clearly wanted it back. It was about time he returned it, anyway; having that thing sit and rot in his closet for another year would just be a constant reminder that they were over, that none of what they were doing was real, and Armin would much rather not dwell on any of that if he could help it.

“Hey, woah, woah, what are you doing?” Eren asked, gently gripping Armin’s wrists before he could fully pull the damned thing over his head. “I didn’t say to take it off.”

“But—”

“Keep it,” Eren murmured. His hands were still wrapped around Armin’s wrists, and despite the fabric separating their skin, the touch still burned Armin all the same. “It looks better on you than on me.”

“You’re sure you don’t want it back?”

Eren snorted. “Seriously, Armin, it’s okay. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t let you keep some stupid hoodie?”

“Fake,” Armin reminded him. “Fake boyfriend.”

“Right.” Eren let go, leaving Armin cold in spite of the pleasantly warm weather. “Anyways, uh, I really have to go.”

Armin awkwardly coughed. “Text me when you get there. Don’t do anything dumb on the road, please.”

“You know I won’t,” Eren said. He leaned down and kissed the top of Armin’s head. “Bye, Minnie.”

Armin tried to frown, though doing anything but grinning seemed a little bit impossible; only Eren could make something so horrible sound so endearing. “And here I thought I’d finally escaped you calling me by that God-awful nickname.”

“Let’s not forget that I’m the one who gave it to you. It’s basically my trademark.”

Armin gave him a playful shove and tried not to think about how lovely Eren's incoming laugh was. “Uh huh. Get your butt moving, because I know for a fact Carla’s going to kill you if you’re late.”

“Okay, okay. Ow.”

He scrambled back inside the house once Eren’s car was out of the driveway, nearly screaming when he found Erwin standing right next to the door with a cup of tea in his hand. “Jesus, Dad, where the hell did you come from?”

“I was just about to check if you were coming inside,” he said, gesturing to his watch. “It’s been five minutes.”

“Oh.” Armin cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, that’s— er, we were making plans.”

Erwin’s brows rose. “Making plans?”

“Yeah. For next time.”

“Next time.” He narrowed his eyes. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

Unease settled in Armin’s stomach. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“I don’t know. What look?”

“You have this look. Like, this little smirk you do when you think you know something.”

“And do I know something?” Erwin asked innocently. 

“Are you trying to gaslight me?”

“Am I?”

“Dad.”

“I’m merely asking a question,” Erwin shrugged as he started to skip away to the TV room. “You only make it seem like what you want it to be.”

“What in the—” Armin started, but Erwin was out of sight before he could finish. “Hey, Dad, come back here. Dad!”

Yeah. He definitely knew.

Chapter Text

The last week has been… Interesting, to say the least.

On Monday, the day after what Armin liked to call the Swimming-And-Other-Stuff-Incident, Historia had finally cracked, bursting into the house with Freya in her arms at approximately 4:21 p.m. and hauling him upstairs to grill him about everything that’d happened since the party. To say it was terrifying would be one hell of an understatement; he’d not dared to spare her a single fake detail, but still felt like she didn’t believe a single word he was saying, even when she seemed to be completely out of any more questions. Much to his relief, their parents hadn’t said anything about her yelling, but Armin could tell they were waiting for the perfect moment to bring it up. Especially Erwin, who’d been weirdly evasive ever since his little comments on Sunday. And, as much as Armin wanted to end the back-and-forth torment, he’d made Eren not say anything to Carla, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to break his own word and crack first.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday were spent either stressing about schoolwork or stressing about not stressing about other things; namely, Armin’s stupid fake-ex-boyfriend and his hair and his face and, God, his texts. Friday marked the start of their very anticipated Fall Break, and he’d managed to go to one of the many hangouts (a better term for “potential prying sessions”) his friends had set up. Eren had bailed at the last minute, which left him alone with the others and their millions of predicted questions that he’d spent thirty minutes answering until they were satisfied. Luckily for him, Eren had ended up coming to the second one at Reiner’s place on Saturday, and had kissed him in front of everyone upon his arrival, linking their hands together and only reluctantly letting go when Armin had to leave. It wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as the last time, but his cheeks still warmed every time the memory crossed his mind. Not that he thought about it much. Because he didn’t.

He sighed, making the right turn that would lead him straight to Historia’s house. Today was her and Ymir’s annual date night, and their usual cat-sitter was out of town because of the holidays. He’d immediately volunteered to look after Freya while they were gone, because, well, it was Freya, and because he didn’t want them bothering their parents or Ymir’s nana with the task. It wasn’t like he was doing anything, either— Levi had banned him from using his computer for the entire break the second he’d finished all his assignments, his reason being, in his own words, “you’re going to start looking like an old man soon if you keep slouching your back like that when you sit.” Whatever worked for him, Armin supposed. A week without that thing wouldn’t kill him.

Historia opened the door almost immediately after he knocked. “Finally. We’ve been waiting for ages.”

“It’s literally only been fifteen minutes since I left, Tori.”

“Exactly.”

A meow sounded from below, and Armin felt Freya’s tail curl around his shin. He reached down and picked her up, grinning when she gripped his shirt with her paws and licked his jaw. “Hi, darling.”

Historia closed the door behind them, giving Freya a look. “You’re such a manipulative little shit, you know that?”

“Leave her alone,” Armin said, earning another meow. “We’re bonding.”

“Mhmmm. Ymir!” she shouted. “He’s here!”

Ymir emerged from the curtain-covered hall with a giant black coat wrapped around her shoulders like a cocoon. Her teeth were chattering so loudly they practically echoed. “How the fuck are you not dying of frostbite or some shit right now?”

“Because I don’t wear jeans and a T-shirt in the middle of winter, love,” Historia said in amusement, standing on her tippy toes and smacking a kiss to the corner of Ymir’s mouth. She blushed. 

“It’s only October.”

“Says the one who’s shaking as we speak,” Historia sighed. She gave Armin a grin. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Do not fuck up my house, please.”

Armin rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna—”

“Love you!” Historia shouted, tugging Ymir by the hand, and they were out the door before Armin could even respond. 

“Asshole,” he muttered. Freya clawed at his shoulder, and he repositioned her so that she was sitting against the crook of his neck. “What would you like to do first, hm? We could have a snack…”

They were on the couch a few moments later, Freya now curled atop his chest as he wrapped them both in Historia’s fluffy blanket. He’d turned on The Little Mermaid— there wasn’t exactly much he could do with a sleeping cat, but he was more than fine with just sitting there and letting her snooze. Besides, if anyone was going to take advantage of Historia’s cable, he would gladly be the one to do it.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Freya was completely passed out, borderline snores sounding from her with every inhale and exhale. Armin carefully reached for his phone, positioning it right above him and taking the most glorious selfie to ever sit in his gallery. He sent it to Levi, because as much as his father liked to pretend he wasn’t completely enamored by Freya the second Historia showed him her shelter picture, Armin knew he’d secretly appreciate it. Then his eyes drifted down to a certain someone’s contact, the bright blue of an unchecked message sending heightened spikes to his heart. 

Eren (1:55 p.m., 27 minutes ago)

yo what are you doing

im so boreddddd

:(

Armin 

Hi Eren

Sorry I just saw this

I’m at Historia’s looking after Freya

Armin hesitated for a moment, finger looming over the image button, before he shook himself. It’s just a cute photo of Freya. Stop being stupid for no reason.

Armin sent an image

We’re watching a movie

She’s completely passed out 😭

He set his phone back down beside him, trying to focus on the movie and not the logistics of whatever the hell he’d just done. Three minutes later, his phone vibrated, and he only allowed himself ten seconds of waiting before checking like his life depended on it.

Eren (Just Now)

OHMY GDOODODODOOD

i’m actually gonna cry

YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE

ACKKCKSJDJ

HER FACE. 

Armin

I literally can’t

And she’s snoringgg

Eren 

look at you the cat whisperer

omfg

i’m gonna frame this pic i’m so serious

it’s my new favorite one of you

Armin

Please do NOT I look like a gremlin

Freya’s the star here

Eren 

shut up you look like a greek god all the time

i swear

Blood rushed into Armin’s face, making him dizzy. Jesus.

Armin

Thank you truly but your eyes deceive you

Eren 

NUH UHHHH

Armin

Is that like your new thing

I’ve heard you say it at least fifty times this week

Eren 

it sounds funny

nuh uh

but i also mean it cause ur DELUISONA

or however you fuckign spell it

Armin

Delusional???

Eren 

YES THAT

that's you

Armin

Nuh uh

Eren 

..

did you just nuh uh me

Armin

Yes 

Eren 

damn ok then

WAIT 

i have smth for you

since we're on the topic of cute pets and cute guys ;)

Armin

???

Eren sent an image

Armin couldn’t help but crack a smile. Eren was posing in bed, mouth twisted into one of his signature broad grins, with his family dog, Rose, lying on her back on top of a pillow. Armin recognized the blue-striped sheets behind him almost immediately; Eren must’ve been visiting his parents for the day.

Armin

AWWW

You guys look so cute

khshdjdgfh

I miss her so much :( 

Eren 

she misses you lots

i mentioned your name the other day and she started looking at me with those big sad eyes she always does

almost cried ngl.

Armin

You mentioned me???

Eren 

OH yeah nothing about

yk

the Arrangement

mom was asking about you

Armin blew out a breath of relief. Freya then rolled onto her other side, and he gently pushed her upwards so she wouldn’t fall off his chest and into the crevices of the couch.

Armin

Oh lmao ok good

Tell her I say hi

Eren 

i will 

i was just about to leave the house anyways so i’ll show her the picture on my way out

Armin

Oh my God please don’t

Eren 

😈

Armin

What’s that supposed to mean?

Also, do you have any other plans or??

Eren 

nah 

like i said earlier i’m bored

may as well get some work done i’ve been avoiding it even tho that’s like the last thing i wanna do

Armin pursed his lips and tapped his index finger against the side of his phone. Would it be too informal to invite him over? The idea popped into his head suddenly, and he swallowed, mentally slapping himself for ever thinking such a thing. Yes, it would, because the only reason they were even talking in the first place was because of their plan. Just because they both happened to be free at the same time with nothing major to do didn’t mean that it was suddenly okay for them to hang out outside of group settings.

But, the traitorous part of his mind supplied, it wasn’t like anything was going to happen. They had to get along at least somewhat for this plan to work in the first place, right? Maybe this could be a part of the whole “bonding experience,” or something. Aside from that, he knew Historia probably wouldn’t mind. He’d still ask her, obviously, but she wouldn’t throw a fit as long as they didn’t do anything stupid. And Eren did love Freya and had been nagging Ymir about wanting to see her, so this was the perfect opportunity for him to do so without her threatening to kick his ass.

Yeah. That could definitely work.

Armin

Wait

Eren 

yeah??

Armin

Can you like

Stay put for just a minute

Eren 

?

why lmao

Armin

Just give me a second

Armin (just now)

Historia

Historia

Asshole

Tori

Tori

HISTORIA

Tori AKA the devil herself

WHAZT.

OIH MY GOCED

DID SOMHEGNING HAPNEOEN

Armin

Omg no

Tori AKA the devil herself

fucking bitch

you scared the shit out of me

what do u want I’M VERY OBVIOUSLY BUSY

Armin

Ok this may seem like

Stupid but

Tori AKA the devil herself

spit it out

Armin

Would it be okay if Eren came over??

Tori AKA the devil herself

…

THAT’S

what you spammed me for…?

Armin

😁

Tori AKA the devil herself

your ass is so down bad i’m CRYING

Armin

I'M NOT.

Is that a yes or a no

Tori AKA the devil herself

idc

just don’t do anything weird 

Armin

WTF

I literally just want to see him

Tori AKA the devil herself

mhmmmmmmmmmmm

ok bye have fun don’t die tell Freya i love her

Armin

Omfg bye

Armin (just now)

Ok hi

Eren 

what’s happening

Armin

So

This may seem like

Weird and out of the blue but

Do you want to come over? For Freya.

A few moments of nothing, and then—

Eren 

as in like

to historia’s place?

Armin internally cringed, regret filling him instantly.

Armin

Yeah

Eren 

and ur ok with that???

Armin

Yeah lmao I’m the one who asked 

Eren 

i know but

you said you didn’t wanna hangout outside of the group

Armin

It kind of strengthens our agreement right?

Like bonding

We can plan

And stuff

Eren 

so what ur saying is you want to see me

Armin

You’re the one who said you were bored

Eren 

i’m taking that as a yes

i’ll be there give me like thirty minutes

𑁤

By the ten minute mark, Armin had gotten so restless to the point of having to take Freya off his chest and pace around his sister’s dining table, thoughts jumbled in his mind and clouding any chance of being logical. Freya had followed his every move, now resting on one of the chairs at the dining table and looking up at him with a face that basically said, you really are pathetic.

That just about summed it up.

Again, he didn’t know why he was suddenly working himself up over this. It was like the whole shitty texting fiasco all over again. He was the one who asked Eren to come over. The least he could do was foster even a speck of confidence and stop acting like he was going to die any second. They were just hanging out. As friends, for Freya. Nothing was going to happen.

He squashed down that rising feeling of discontent the second it started to bubble.

“This is so stupid,” he groaned, not caring to think about the fact that Freya couldn’t exactly answer back with words. She meowed, and he sighed. 

“Why do I do these things to myself?” He picked her up and held her close, feeling a bit of the tension in his shoulders loosen. “At least you’re not judging me.” She tilted her head. “Well, I think you aren’t.”

He eyed the clock on the wall. Five more minutes until Eren’s deadline. “You’re not letting go under any circumstance, are we clear?” He gave her a look. “There’s no way I’m opening that door alone.”

She yawned, eyes beginning to droop again, and Armin fondly shook his head. “You really like sleeping, huh? I wonder—”

The sound of the doorbell ringing caused him to physically jump, which would’ve been embarrassing if not for the constant fuck fuck fuck taking control of any and all thoughts he could’ve conjured up in that moment. In fear of accidentally dropping her from the newfound shakiness in his hands, he put Freya back on the ground, the sudden realization that he’d just lost his one and only form of emotional support hitting him like a gut-punch as he watched her scurry away and jump onto the couch. “You little—”

Another ring sounded, and he cringed, forcing himself to move towards the door and grab the handle. This is fine, everything’s fine, nothing’s going to happen—

“Hey,” Eren grinned as soon as he opened the door, cheeks reddened from what Armin assumed to be the weather. He swallowed, suddenly feeling a lot warmer despite the coolness now coming in from the outside. Eren’s hair was down today, loosely hanging against that ratty white T-shirt he’d had since their junior year of high school, but of course he managed to make even that look effortlessly attractive. Armin tried for a smile, but he knew it probably looked more like a grimace from the way Eren’s brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Totally fine,” Armin said, voice suddenly jumping an octave. Pull yourself together and stop acting like a total idiot. “Er, do you want to come in, or…?”

He closed the door behind them, Eren still watching him suspiciously. “You sure something’s not wrong?”

Armin shook his head. He frowned, noticing the sheen of sweat glistening all over Eren’s face and neck. “Why do you look like you’ve just ran a marathon, or something?”

Maybe it was the trick of the light, but Eren’s cheeks suddenly flushed an even deeper crimson. “Uh… ‘cause I kind of ran all the way here?”

Armin’s jaw went slack. “What in the—”

“Uber wasn’t working for some reason, and I drove with my mom, and I knew she was gonna start asking questions the second I told her where I was taking her car, and so I just—” Eren cut himself off. “Yeah. I mean, at least I got my workout in for the day.”

He ran all the way here to see me. Typical Eren, taking the hardest possible route when he could’ve just asked Armin to pick him up. He wouldn’t be surprised if Eren could somehow feel the vibrations of his rapidly-beating heart on the floor, or something. 

He ran all the way here to see me.

“Are you insane?”

“I mean, I’ve literally run a marathon before, so this doesn’t even compare.”

“Eren, you do realize it’s almost winter, right?” Stupidly, Armin reached up and brushed a wet stray hair out of his face. “You’re going to get sick. I wouldn’t have asked you to come over if I knew you didn’t have a ride.”

“But I wanted to see you,” Eren urged. Thump, thump. “Seriously, dude, it wasn’t even that bad.”

“You’re quite literally soaking wet from sweat.”

Eren shrugged. “And do I care? No.”

“You really should,” Armin grumbled, praying the heat in his face didn’t show. Freya was still sitting on the couch, the traitor, but she allowed him to pick her up again, at least. “Freya’s over here. The little shit bolted as soon as she heard the doorbell ring.”

“Oh my God,” Eren whispered, hands slightly reaching out and hovering over her face. She blinked. “I forgot how small she is.” 

Armin snorted and held her up. Eren’s hand gently grazed the top of her head, and it was safe to say his eyes had started to sparkle. “She likes you.”

“I would die for her,” he said, tone so serious that Armin couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled in his throat. Freya meowed and nudged Eren’s thumb with her nose.

“You’ve only met her twice, Eren.”

“But look at her.”

Armin set Freya back down on the couch, gesturing for Eren to sit, and he did. Freya immediately went to claw at his jean-covered thigh— ever since Historia had brought her home, she’d had the weirdest obsession with rough-textured clothes. “ Freya.”

Eren shook his head. “Let her, it’s fine. My jeans are already fucked up anyways.”

“I don’t even wanna know how long you’ve had those, at this point. Or how they still fit you.” 

“Since senior year,” Eren grinned, picking up Freya and setting her on his lap. She continued clawing as if her life depended on it. “You’re the one who bought them for me, may I remind you.”

Armin snorted. “And you’re the one who asked me for help when you decided all your emo clothes weren’t stylish anymore. So.”

“I thought we agreed to never mention that phase ever again.”

“Mikasa agreed,” Armin corrected, sitting on the couch. He tried not to think about the more-than-necessary amount of space between them. “I never did anything of the sort.”

“Liar,” Eren gasped. “Okay, then. If we’re going to bring that shit up—”

“Do not,” Armin started, but Eren was already pulling up that dreaded photo on his phone. “Eren.”

“My personal favorite,” Eren said with a grin. Armin with his old, long hair and chunky glasses from freshman year appeared on the screen. He was hugging Eren’s waist, and the other had his arms wrapped around Armin’s shoulders, pulling him close. Eren’s eyeliner was so smudgy it almost looked like eyeshadow, and his oversized black T-shirt with multiple chains wrapped around his biceps reached all the way down to his thighs, which were covered in dark pants so baggy Armin was surprised he was even able to stand. They weren’t even paying attention to the camera, grinning widely at each other like they were the only people on the planet. A painful pang sounded in Armin’s chest at the realization that they must’ve recently started dating when that photo was taken.

“At least you looked cute. I looked like a fucking goblin.”

“You really must be blind if you think that’s cute,” Armin sighed. “And a goblin is a stretch. You’re… you know.”

“I’m what?”

Armin looked away, cheeks reddening. Shit. “Nevermind.”

“Tell me,” Eren said.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“It’s really nothing,” Armin tried, but Eren clearly wasn’t having any of it.

“I won’t stop nagging you until you say it.”

Hypocrite, Armin thought, flashbacks of that argument they’d had before Historia’s party coming to mind before he sighed. He really didn’t have the energy to be petty, at the moment, and he was much more focused on keeping his heart-rate and the heat in his face in check more than anything else. “I just meant— you’re not as bad-looking as you think.”

Eren smiled coyly, and, well, if it was hard for Armin to breathe before, he definitely wasn’t able to now. “Uh huh. Not bad-looking, he says, which is just code for ‘I think you’re hot.’”

“Shut up,” Armin muttered.

“Your face is so red right now,” Eren said gleefully. Armin swatted his arm.

“Never in a million years would I insinuate such a thing. I just said it in, like, an objective manner—”

“I can count plenty of times you’ve said that, actually,” Eren interrupted, “like—”

“If you even think about finishing that sentence,” Armin warned. Freya clawed particularly harshly at Eren’s knee, making him yelp. “Thanks, Freya.”

“I thought you were on my side here,” Eren hissed, only getting a small meow in return. “You’re lucky you’re so cute. Ow.”

“That’s what you get for making fun of me for no reason.”

“I wasn’t. Freya’s just biased.”

“Or she just knows who’s right.” Armin tsked, taking Freya from Eren and placing her in-between them. “I think that’s enough, yeah? I don’t need you ripping him to shreds, as much as I’d like you to.”

“Rude,” Eren grumbled, and Armin just shrugged with a smug smile in response. “Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. I have an idea for our Halloween costumes.”

Armin huffed out a laugh. “I’m already scared, and you haven’t even said anything yet.”

“It’s not that bad. Have a little faith in me, at least.”

“Tell me.”

Eren gave him a pointed look. “Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” Armin grinned.

“You’re such a liar.”

“You can’t just leave me hanging like this.”

“Promise me you won’t laugh, and I’ll say it.”

“Fine. I promise. Now tell me.”

“If you insist,” Eren sighed. “Rapunzel and Flynn.”

The giggles were leaving him before Eren even finished the sentence. “Good grief.”

“It’s perfect . You have to admit it.” Eren nudged his knee, the sudden touch almost causing Armin to jump. “Admit that it’s perfect.”

“Maybe,” Armin said, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “But, seriously, though, what is it with you and this sudden Rapunzel obsession? You’ve never been into Tangled. Like, ever.”

Eren looked away, but Armin could still see the red tinting the tip of his ears through his hair. “I told you already. You guys have the same hair.”

“And that’s why you want me to go as her for halloween?”

Eren shrugged. “Yup.”

“Okay, but I can’t exactly go prancing around in Connie’s cramped house with a puffy princess dress,” Armin grimaced. “That could honestly be classified as some sort of safety hazard.”

“It doesn’t have to be a dress,” Eren said quickly, opening his phone. “I was doing research—”

“Oh my God.”

“—We could get the top part of her costume and some purple pants to match, and then we could tie a purple sash or something around your waist so it looks kind of like a skirt.” He showed Armin some male model on what he assumed to be the shop’s website with the exact outfit he’d described. “The only hard part to put on would be the corset, but you’ve worn shit like that before, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Armin smirked. “You really planned all this out, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” Eren coughed. “I just thought it’d be cute.”

“It is,” Armin told him, and he meant it. Eren’s eyes immediately shimmered with affection, and Armin would do anything, anything, to keep that look. So, he said, “I’ll get the costume now.”

“Yes,” Eren cheered, ruffling Armin’s hair. “Now I won’t have to throw out the shit I bought. Fuck yeah.”

“You already bought the costume?” Armin laughed. “What if I said no?”

“You wouldn’t,” Eren said smugly. “I’m irresistible.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Armin muttered, typing the costume name into the shop’s search bar. Eren was right, of course, but he didn’t need to know that. “Is it this one?”

Eren leaned closer, and Armin sharply inhaled, feeling a bit of Eren’s hair brush against the side of his head. “Yep. It’s gonna look so good.”

“We’ll see about that,” Armin said, setting his phone beside him once the order was confirmed. At least it would arrive the morning of the party; if it really looked horrible, he could always use one of the corsets in his closet at home and make some sort of backup-costume. “The others are never gonna let us hear the end of this, just so you know.”

“They won’t say shit, ‘cause we’re gonna look awesome,” Eren promised. “By the way, you never told me what movie you were watching earlier.”

Armin grabbed the remote from the table. “The Little Mermaid.”

“Of course,” Eren said, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I shouldn’t have expected anything else, to be honest. Ariel was always your favorite.”

“Yeah, ‘cause of how badly I wanted to be a fish as a kid,” Armin snickered. “And after I bought that stupid book about ocean facts and read it so much I could practically quote it from memory.”

“I loved hearing you read that thing,” said Eren fondly. “Please tell me you didn’t get rid of it. I’d genuinely cry.”

“God, no. Levi would’ve killed me if I did anything of the sort— you know how he hates throwing stuff out for no reason. It’s somewhere buried in the depths of my room.” Armin fell back against the couch pillows. “And it’s kind of helpful for essays, and stuff.”

Eren laughed, a sound so lovely and so familiar Armin’s heart ached. “Isn’t it, like, for fifth graders?”

“For when I’m stuck, I mean,” Armin clarified, his voice light. “Anyways. I was gonna start this up again, so unless you want to do anything else…”

He looked at Eren expectantly, who stayed silent for a moment, before saying, “Sure. Whatever you want.”

Armin ignored the part of him now swimming in disappointment as he pressed play. “Do you want some of the blankets?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s fucking freezing.”

“That’s what happens when you run out in that weather in the loosest clothes possible,” Armin sighed, scooching closer to Eren so that they shared equal parts of the blanket. Their knees almost touched. “Now I get why Ymir was driving Historia so crazy.”

Eren scrunched his nose. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Both of you refuse to accept the fact that it isn’t summer anymore.”

“Okay, but don’t group me in with her.”

“It’s kind of hard not to when you both do the same exact things.”

“Ew.”

They went into a quiet, comfortable silence shortly after, minus the constant glances Armin stole at the gap between them. They’d watched movies together more times than he could count, so it wasn’t that aspect that bothered him, but he still wasn’t used to the space. With Eren, they’d always had to be touching, whether it be their hands, or their knees, or their shoulders. It didn’t matter as long as they were connected in some way or the other. Being apart just didn’t feel natural to Armin, even a year later. He hadn’t quite registered how much he missed it until they were alone— and now, with Eren sitting just a mere few inches away, it was like a never-ending taunt, an excruciating reality check of why they were even here in the first place. Armin swallowed, forcing his eyes to look up. Thinking about this for too long would cause him to say, or, worse, do something stupid, and that was seriously the last thing either of them needed.

It was around the time Ariel and Eric had met after her transformation when Eren cleared his throat. Freya had started snoring again, her tiny head resting on Armin’s thigh. “Armin?”

“Hm?” Armin replied, still looking at the TV.

Eren sighed. “This isn’t working.”

Armin felt his heart drop immediately, and he whipped his head around, eyes going wide. “What do you mean?”

Eren gestured to the space between them. “This.”

“I don’t get it,” Armin rasped, trying to reign himself back to reality. Breathe, idiot. If Eren meant what he thought he meant… No, that didn’t make sense. But—

“You’ve been rigid ever since you pressed play. As in, I can feel you physically holding yourself up so you don’t touch me,” Eren explained. 

Oh. Armin took a breath, feeling the hurt in his chest start to be replaced with those familiar warm, fluttery nerves. “I just thought— we’re alone, aren’t we? It’s not like anybody’s gonna suddenly pop up out of nowhere and watch us.”

“Yeah, okay, sure, but it’s not just now,” Eren frowned. “You do it around the others, too.”

“Since when?”

“The Mario Kart game,” Eren started. “Your parents’ place, Reiner’s place. Every hangout we’ve had since we agreed to do this. It’s like, every time I touch you, you look like you’re gonna die, or something.”

That’s because I am, Armin thought weakly. “I didn’t—”

“We can’t make this work if we’re not acting natural,” Eren cut in. “They’re bound to start pointing it out eventually. How Mikasa’s kept in all her questions until now still confuses the shit out of me, but I could see her eyeing us when I was over. She knows something’s up, especially with you.”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that this isn’t exactly a normal situation, Eren,” Armin pointed out, biting his lip. “I can’t just fall back into it like it’s nothing. I’m trying. I swear, I really am.”

Eren stayed silent for a moment, eyes never leaving him, before he said, “why don’t we practice, then?”

Armin blinked. “Practice?”

“Practice touching,” Eren said, tone completely normal as if those two words didn’t cause Armin’s head to almost explode from the sheer pressure alone. “Like, you practice holding my hand, or hugging me. Shit like that.”

“Practice touching,” Armin repeated, mind going blank. Practice touching. Only Eren would be the one to come up with something so ridiculous, so tempting. He looked down at their hands, noting that their pinkies were only inches apart, yet even the mere presence of Eren’s body heat sent heated sparks flying against his skin. If it was only for practice… maybe then these stupid jitters would slowly go away over time. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Okay.”

“Are you sure?” Eren asked, brows furrowed. “It was just a stupid idea. Seriously, if you don’t want to—”

Armin quickly laced their hands together, the warmth of Eren’s palm sending shots of hot, hot, hot trailing up his arm and spreading throughout his entire body. “I want to.”

“Oh.” Red flickered against Eren’s cheeks and nose. “Okay. Yeah, okay, that’s, uh, that’s good.”

Armin squeezed his hand with a chuckle, then turned back to the movie. Now that he wasn’t quite as stiff as a board, he slowly started to ease into the couch, letting his back fall against the pillows and his knee to finally shift and rest against Eren’s. “Now you look like the one who’s gonna implode.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yeah you do.” Armin poked the side of Eren’s head with his free hand. Practice. It’s just for practice. “You’re blushing.”

“It’s the—” he paused. “It’s the heater. Yeah.”

“Eren, what heater?”

“You know what I mean.” Eren looked down, his hair hanging and covering his face. “Ymir’s probably the one who fucking set it up. Fucking Ymir.”

“I can let go, if it’s bothering you that much,” Armin said, beginning to move his hand, but Eren immediately tightened his hold.

“Do not. You’re so fucking warm. I’ll die of hypothermia or some other weird ass sickness.”

“Were you not cursing out Ymir for putting in a heater literally a second ago?”

“What happened in the past stays in the past,” said Eren, waving his free hand. 

“The past that was literally three seconds ago.” Armin hesitated for a brief second, once again glancing at the gap between them. If Eren really was that cold, then he could just scooch closer a bit, couldn’t he? That meant they could properly share the blanket, and Freya wouldn’t have to sleep at such a weird angle, either. 

“I don’t mind if you, er, sit a bit closer.”

Eren’s lips parted slightly, eyebrows raising. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Armin blushed and awkwardly patted the space on the couch. “It’s better for Freya, too. I don’t want her getting, like, back problems or something.”

Eren snorted, looking at her with a grin. “She’s passed out. I swear she’s gonna start drooling.”

Armin carefully picked her up, wincing when she stirred. “Sorry, sorry. Shh. Go back to sleep. I’m just moving you.” Thankfully, she fell right back into her slumber as soon as she got comfortable in his lap. He scratched her head. “There you go. Now your little neck won’t be so strained.”

Eren was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read, Armin’s pulse quickening under the weight of his gaze. Then, after a few moments, he broke away the hand holding Armin’s and used both to lift himself up and slide into Armin’s space. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Armin said a little too quickly. Their thighs and shoulders were touching, now, and Eren’s face was only a few inches away, hot breath tickling the curve of Armin’s cheek. “Er, can you hold your side of the blanket for me?”

When he did, Armin moved even closer, careful not to wake Freya, and lifted the blanket over their heads so that it now rested atop their shoulders, tugging and making sure it fit correctly. He laced their fingers together again, swallowing when he felt Eren’s thumb start to rub his knuckle. “Can I…?”

“Do whatever you want,” Eren whispered. “Practice, remember?”

“Right.” Practice. Armin adjusted his body downwards, then slowly let his head fall against Eren’s shoulder. He heard the other’s breath hitch.

“You’re really warm,” Eren murmured, lips barely brushing against Armin’s hair. He shivered. “Thanks for not letting me die.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They continued watching the movie afterwards, but every sound coming from the TV went through one ear and out the other— mainly because Armin’s head was rattling with the beat of his heart, but also because he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off the sight of their hands. Eren hadn’t stopped his movements, every slide of his thumb sending flickers of electricity through Armin’s body. Just for practice, he kept reminding himself. It’s just for practice. It doesn’t mean anything, so get your shit together before you start thinking stupid things.

With every passing second, his breathing started to slow, the warmth of Eren and the blanket making his head spin and his eyes start to droop. He heard Eren huff out a laugh.

“I don’t mind if you sleep. You’re starting to look like Freya.”

“No ‘m not,” Armin mumbled. “I’m awake.”

“Barely.” Eren kissed the side of his head, and Armin’s brain may as well have short-circuited. “I’ll wake you up when the movie’s over. Promise.”

“How much time is left?”

“Like, forty-ish minutes?”

That wasn’t bad at all, Armin supposed. That little amount of time wouldn’t be enough to stop him from falling back asleep later. “You’re sure it’s fine?”

“Yes.”

Armin sighed, finally letting his eyes close. Eren pressed another kiss to his hair and rested his cheek against the top of Armin’s head. Within minutes, his consciousness slipped away completely.

𑁤

“See, I would think this was cute if it wasn’t you and if it wasn’t happening on my couch.”

“Can you shut the fuck up?” Eren’s voice. “I don’t want him waking up over something dumb.”

The snap of a camera. “Thanks for the free blackmail, Jeager. Really appreciate it.” That was Historia. Armin heard Ymir snicker.

“He’s gonna kill you when he sees that.” Eren again.

“If he does anything I’m banning him from seeing the cat.”

Armin sucked in a breath, small throbs coming from the back of his head. He felt Eren’s hand gently tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Hi, love. Sorry for waking you.”

Love. Armin’s eyes fluttered open, heart doing somersaults in his chest. Historia and Ymir were looming over them, a smirk playing on Historia’s face and a grimace on Ymir’s. His free hand shot out to his lap, and he frowned at the lack of Freya’s soft brown fur. “Where’d Freya go?”

Eren snorted. “Of course that’s the first thing you ask.”

“She’s eating in the kitchen,” Historia told him, gaze darting between them. “You idiots better not have done anything dumb while we were gone.”

Armin sat up, untangling his hand from Eren’s and rubbing his eyes. “Shut up. We literally only watched a movie. How was your date?”

Historia grinned at Ymir, whose cheeks darkened. Armin suppressed a laugh. Even after almost four years of being together, she’d never not been flustered around his sister. The faintest smile or laugh would cause her to look like a total blushing idiot, as much as she tried to deny it. “Amazing, as usual. Thanks for looking after the little shit.”

“I only did it ‘cause it’s her, just so you know,” Armin said, standing and holding his hand out for Eren to take, which he did. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Unfortunately,” Historia sighed, and he stuck his tongue out at her.

They left them a moment later, Ymir rushing to Freya in the kitchen whilst Historia went to change into her pajamas. Armin turned to the boy beside him. “I can drop you off, if you want. Unless you plan on running the whole way back.”

Eren blushed. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” Armin grinned. “Well?”

“You can drop me off,” he muttered. 

After saying one last goodbye to Freya (who clung onto Armin’s shoe right until he had to leave,) they were on their way, Eren piling into the passenger's seat and immediately plugging his phone into the aux despite Armin’s protests. They were mostly silent for the fifteen-minute ride, save for Eren’s occasional comments and his absolutely horrible music, but Armin enjoyed himself nonetheless. It wasn’t until he stopped right outside the gate to their old apartment that his shoulders started to gain the tension he’d become familiar with ever since that night one year ago.

Eren unplugged his phone, the layer of silence between them morphing from comfortable to thick in instants. He gave Armin a small smile. “Is it bad I don’t wanna leave?”

Armin shook his head with a chuckle. “Not really, no.” He averted his gaze, feeling his cheeks get hot. “I don’t want to, either.” 

It was scary how much he meant it.

“Oh,” was all Eren said. 

“Oh,” Armin repeated. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“I dunno,” Eren mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair. “Can I be honest with you?”

Nervousness spiked through Armin’s entire body, but he managed to keep his cool. Well, externally, at least. “Of course.”

“I didn’t, uh, I didn’t really expect this whole thing to really last this long, if that makes sense?” He visibly swallowed. “I know it’s only been, like, three weeks, but, I don’t know. I thought you were gonna call it off.”

Armin’s brows pulled together. “Why would I call it off?”

“Like I said, I don’t know,” Eren sighed. “Like, maybe you’d realize how dumb it was, or something, and then we’d go back to not talking.”

“We were talking, though, weren’t we?” Armin said quietly. “It wasn’t like we were radio silent.”

Eren gave him a look. “It wasn’t the same.”

“Nothing’s really the same anymore,” Armin muttered. “You and I both know why.”

“Obviously,” Eren said. “It’s just— what I’m trying to say is, I miss hanging out with you. That’s all.”

Armin’s eyes went wide. Oh.

Oh.

He stared at his lap, feeling the heat in his face grow. Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, today was probably the most fun he’d had in a long, long time. It was the first time in a while that the gaping hole in his chest that had been steadily growing since the break-up had lessened, even if it was just a little. He hadn’t realized how much he’d longed for it.

How much he’d wanted Eren to be the one to fill it.

I miss you. Three words that sat on his tongue. His gaze flickered to Eren, who was looking at him with his brows furrowed, his lips downturned. The urge to brush the hair out of his face overcame Armin like a wave, but he forced his hands to stay steady.

“I miss hanging out with you, too,” Armin said, voice wobbly. It wasn’t a lie— he did miss hanging out with Eren. But he didn’t know what would happen if he said what he wanted to. That was a bridge he wasn’t willing to cross, yet.

He wouldn’t risk what was already close to breaking again.

Eren’s face lit up, and the already fast pace of Armin’s heart multiplied by a thousand. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Armin swallowed. “I do. I really do.”

Eren grinned like he couldn’t help it, flush overtaking his face. “Actually?”

“Yes, Eren,” Armin laughed. 

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

“So that means you’d, you know.” Eren turned his head to the window. “You’d do something like this again?”

“Yes.” Armin coughed. “It’s— It’s fun. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me, too,” Eren said. He checked his phone and frowned. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just—” Eren exhaled. “I have so much shit to catch up on. You have literally no idea.”

“I think I do, actually,” Armin mused. “You forget how much I witnessed you procrastinate in high school.”

Eren groaned. “Please don’t remind me. I don’t even know how I would’ve gotten into this shitty college if it weren’t for you.”

“Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?” Armin shook his head fondly. “I won’t keep you waiting any longer. Seriously, do your work.”

“Fine,” Eren grumbled. “You’ll text me?”

Armin nodded. “I’ll text you. Promise.”

“Okay.” He opened the door. Right before he closed it, he peeked his head through the opening. “Bye, Armin.”

“Bye, Eren,” Armin grinned, making sure Eren was fully in the building before he started to back out.

The smile on his face didn’t waver the whole way home.

Chapter Text

“Armin, where the fuck did you put my glitter pen?”

Armin rolled his eyes, staring intently at himself in the guest-bathroom mirror as he dabbed a bit of Mikasa’s red lip-gloss onto his mouth. It was honestly no surprise that Historia’s house was the designated pre-Halloween-party spot for the night; Mikasa and Sasha were currently polishing the final touches to their costumes in the living room, Eren and Ymir had finished getting ready about thirty minutes ago and were playing Candy Crush on Ymir’s phone in her and Historia’s shared room, and Historia’s furious footsteps thundered against the wooden floor of the hallway, getting closer to Armin by the second. 

“My costume doesn’t even need glitter!” he yelled. A moment later, she peeked her head through the door. Her hair, now done in a single french-braid, hung by her side and nearly hit the floor, and a make-shift halo was sitting on the top of her head; she and Ymir had decided to match as the classic “devil-angel” look.

“You’re literally wearing a purple glittery dress right now. Don’t lie to me.”

“First of all,” Armin started, rubbing his lips together and finally feeling satisfied with the rosy color. He placed the tube of lip gloss on the side of the sink. “It’s not a dress. It’s a customized shirt, corset, and pants with a sash that I bought—”

“Still looks like a dress.”

“—And I didn’t take your stupid glitter pen.” He pointed to his face. “I already did most of my eye makeup.”

She furrowed her brows. “Okay, so where the fuck did it go, then?”

“Ask Mikasa.”

“I asked her before you.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you, Tori.”

“Christ,” Historia groaned, slamming the door shut. “Sasha!”

Armin chuckled softly, turned back to the mirror, and began to touch up on his eyeliner. He honestly hadn’t expected the costume to turn out as good as it was, considering he’d bought it impulsively from some sketchy website, but it’d only needed a few adjustments before it looked somewhat reasonable. He still didn’t know about how the corset fit, but it was too late to rush back to his place and get one of his extra ones, and it wasn’t like anyone was going to see that it was just a tad bit too loose. He’d also rather not have his parents see him dressed up as a disney princess, because, well, it was already embarrassing enough. They were bound to ask him about who he was matching with, and Armin really didn’t have the patience, nor the energy to come up with something stupid as an excuse. 

A sudden ding came from his phone, and Armin neatly set the eyeliner-pen back on the sink, grinning when he saw who the sender was.

Eren (Just now, 9:45 p.m.)

hi minnimoomooifospooka

Armin

What even

You know what, not gonna ask

Do you need something?

Eren

im boredd

and ymir won’t let me play on her phone 😒

Armin

Well, there was that one time you spammed her camera roll with so many pictures that her phone quite literally crashed

I don’t blame her

And I’m still getting ready

Eren

TRAITOR

i hope u know my heart just shattered into a million pieces

Armin

Sorry erebooboodoicnbcv

Eren

HELP???

Armin

I said what I said

Eren

fair enough

can i just come to you?

i won’t bother u i swear

Armin

We both know that’s a lie

Eren

i won’t bother u TOO much

Armin

Fine

Come to the guest bathroom

Eren

bet

Armin exhaled and started doing his eyeliner again, cursing at his hands for getting shaky. Not even ten seconds later, the door creaked, and Armin saw Eren quietly slip inside the bathroom through the reflection of the mirror.

“Hi,” he grinned. His hair was done in a half-up-half-down do with small matching braids on the sides of his head, and a hint of eyeliner sat on the water lines of his eyes. His costume was a lot more accurate to Flynn’s than Armin’s was to Rapunzel’s: a dark green vest over a long sleeved white shirt with tan pants and brown boots. And, of course, he looked practically flawless. Armin turned to face him, hoping he wasn’t too obviously flustered, and Eren’s smile faded. “Oh.”

Armin suddenly felt like hiding behind the shower curtain. Did he mess up his lips? Was his eyeliner uneven, or something? Eren was usually honest with these types of things, but a small part of him couldn’t help but think that he was secretly planning out some long speech meant to throw him off. 

“Is it bad?”

“God, no,” Eren breathed, his throat bobbing as he visibly swallowed. Armin noticed that his cheeks had turned a particularly bright shade of red. “I just— uh— wow. You look… wow.”

Armin raised his brows. “Wow?”

“Wow.” Eren moved closer, leaving only a few inches between them. His hands kept clenching and unclenching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Really wow.”

“I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Gorgeous,” Eren murmured, and Armin’s pulse began to beat in a staccato rhythm. “I mean, you always are, but like… wow.”

“Thank you,” Armin mumbled, surprised that his face hadn’t burst into flame from how hot it felt. “You look really wow, too, as usual. Really, you’re beautiful.”

“Mission accomplished, then,” Eren said softly. “Your opinion is the only one that matters to me.”

Armin hesitated, eyes never leaving Eren’s, before he cupped his cheek and felt him lean into the touch like he couldn’t physically resist. Someone could walk in, and it’s practice. That’s a good enough excuse. 

That’s why he’s acting like this. 

“You always know what my answer’s gonna be.”

“Still. You think I’m trying to impress them?”

“Them?”

“Them.” Eren pressed a quick kiss to the palm of Armin’s hand. “Do you want me to do your eyeliner?”

Armin groaned, taking back his hand and running both through his hair. “I knew it was uneven. Something felt off when I was putting it on.”

“It’s not that uneven,” Eren laughed. “It just needs a tiny bit of touching up.”

“Mhmm. Here,” Armin said, grabbing the tube and gently putting it in Eren’s hand. “You’re the eyeliner expert, so I trust your judgment.”

“My stupid emo phase managed to prove useful, after all,” Eren sighed, resting his wrist against the side of Armin’s face for more balance. He tilted his head, and they were now close enough that if Armin moved even a little bit forwards, their lips would brush. He held his breath in a desperate attempt to slow down his heart. “But you did pretty good for someone who rarely does this kind of stuff. Really.”

“I’m honored that you think so,” Armin said smugly. “The Eren Jeager complimenting my makeup? However will I recover?”

“Hold still,” Eren murmured, and Armin shut his mouth. He felt the cool tip of the pen against the outer corner of his left eye. “I don’t want this shit getting in your eye, yeah? The last thing I need is you going blind.”

“It’ll just stain my contacts,” Armin shrugged. “I can always change them.”

“I’m not risking it.” Eren started adding tiny little strokes to the lines Armin had already done. “You know, I miss your big ass glasses. They were so cute.”

“They literally dented the bridge of my nose from how heavy they were,” Armin reminded him. 

“Beauty is pain, as I always say.”

“Since when—” Armin huffed. “You know what I miss?”

“Hm?” Eren distantly replied, all his focus going into the careful touch-ups to Armin’s eye. 

“Your little rings,” Armin said, warmth blossoming in his chest at the memories of him constantly reaching for Eren’s hands during class and fiddling with them on his fingers. “You don’t wear any of them anymore.”

“‘Cause my fingers grew out of them,” Eren told him, seemingly finished with his left eye and shifting Armin so that he could start on his right. “Don’t blink.”

“I’m not,” Armin murmured.

“You looked like you were gonna.”

“How? I can’t have a tell for everything, Eren.”

“Just ‘cause I know you,” Eren said. He moved away, but only a little, and put the cap of the liner back on before placing it back on the sink next to Armin’s lip gloss. “Check if it’s good. I can always redo it if it’s not.”

Armin turned to face the mirror and gasped. Even with just a few adjustments, Eren had completely fixed both wings, evening them out and also carefully connecting them to his eyelids, something Armin had taken almost twenty minutes to do by himself. 

“What kind of magic did you use?” Armin grinned, checking each eye by moving his head from side to side. “Seriously, Eren, it’s amazing.”

Eren flicked the back of Armin’s head. “You can thank Mikasa’s lessons in sixth grade and the millions of practices in front of the mirror. You really like it?”

“Of course.” Armin kissed Eren’s cheek on instinct, grimacing at the faint mark of red left behind and wiping it away with his sleeve. “Thank you.”

Eren cleared his throat, then brushed his knuckles underneath Armin’s chin and slightly lifted his head. “Some of your lipstick got smudged.”

“Lip gloss,” Armin corrected, helplessly swallowing at how Eren dragged his thumb across his bottom lip.

“There’s a difference?”

“Lipstick is a lot denser.”

“Explains why it’s a bit sticky,” Eren whispered. “What flavor is it?”

Armin raised his brows. “And you want to know this, why?”

“Just curious.”

“Can’t remember,” Armin said lightly, and it was true. His mind had gone completely blank, only focusing on the sensation of Eren’s movements. “Maybe strawberry, or some dumb thing like that.”

“Probably tastes nice,” Eren murmured. 

Armin sucked in a breath. Eren was staring intently at his mouth, thumb stilling. His gaze then slowly dragged down to the column of Armin’s throat, then up to his eyes, and a shiver prickled against the base of Armin’s spine, creeping up his back. There was no way the intensity of that look could’ve been fake— or maybe Armin was just making things up in his head.

Pull yourself together.

Move away.

“Kiss me,” Armin breathed, because there was no use in fighting the desire, the temptation, when Eren was looking at him like that. “Someone could walk in and see us—”

Eren pressed closer without having to be asked twice, and his mouth was on Armin’s in seconds. He grabbed his face, tilting his head for better access, and Armin followed him eagerly, a muffled groan ripping itself loose from his throat as Eren moved his hands underneath Armin’s thighs and hoisted him up onto the sink, slotting himself between his open legs and tangling his fingers in Armin’s hair. 

Armin pulled Eren so close that the mirror behind him rattled. He didn’t care, couldn’t care, because letting go would kill him, he was sure of it. Eren made a soft, needy noise, the sound making Armin dizzy, his heart spinning out of control and thundering in his chest. Every time he tried to pull away for even the smallest breath of air, Eren would just chase his mouth, and Armin figured that he wouldn’t mind dying from the lack of oxygen, because it was Eren. 

Eren made another noise, louder this time. Armin clutched the back of Eren’s shoulders, his grip so hard it could’ve been iron, but Eren obviously didn’t care; in fact, all he did was groan, taking away one of the hands still threaded through blond locks to cup Armin’s cheek. His makeup was probably ruined, especially the product on his lips, but it didn’t matter. He wrapped his legs around Eren’s lower back, wanting, needing him closer—

“Hey, Armi— holy fuck.”

Armin and Eren broke apart almost immediately, heavy breaths filling the minimal space between them. Ymir stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth open, and frankly looking like she was going to throw up. Armin let his hands go slack, embarrassment pooling in his stomach, while Eren didn’t move one inch, eyeing Ymir up and down like she was some pest he couldn’t get rid of. 

“I’m actually gonna kill the shit out of both of you,” she groaned, smacking both hands to her eyes like she was trying to rub away the image of them in her mind. “Oh my—”

“Do you need something?” Eren asked, his voice clouded by the pants he was still letting out. Armin’s red lip gloss was smeared across his lips and the corner of his mouth. 

“Fucking dipshit,” Ymir muttered. “Armin, I genuinely hope you break up with him again.”

“ And I hope you die.”

“Eren,” Armin gasped. 

“You idiots do realize that we’re supposed to be leaving in five minutes, right?” Ymir said in exasperation. 

Eren shrugged. “Does it look like I give a single shit?”

“You’re the one driving us, asshole.”

“Piece of—”

“Sorry, Ymir,” Armin said, cutting off the string of curses Eren was likely going to let out next. “We’ll be there in a second, I swear.”

Ymir narrowed her eyes. “If you take long again, I’m sending Historia in here.”

“I swear we’ll be out,” Armin promised, shuddering at even the mere possibility of Historia catching him in this state. “I just need to, er, clean up.”

“Mhm. Better fucking be,” Ymir grumbled, slamming the door shut behind her as she left. Eren sighed.

“Every fucking time, there’s always something.”

Armin gently patted his cheek. “It’s okay. There’ll be people at the party, so…”

Eren’s eyes widened in understanding immediately. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Armin coughed. He nodded his head to the tissue box that had fallen to the floor in the midst of their… moment. “Can you pass me one of those?”

Eren pulled away completely, and Armin tried to ignore how cold he suddenly felt before Eren was handing him one of the tissues. He beckoned for Eren to come closer again, then shifted himself so that he could run the tissue under the water. Once it was damp, he began to wipe away the lip gloss on Eren’s face. “How the hell did some of it get on your nose?”

“Well, you kept trying to pull me forwards,” Eren commented. Armin’s cheeks bloomed red. “And you were right about the flavor, by the way. It’s like a mix of strawberry and mint.”

“That sounds good,” Armin replied, trying to sound unbothered but failing miserably.

“It was,” Eren grinned. “Like, I literally wanna drink the whole bottle.”

“Of course you do,” Armin snorted. He pulled away once he was sure there was no more sparkly-red sitting against Eren’s face and threw the tissue into the bin beside the sink. “I think that’s the last of it. You should probably go meet the others in the living room, since it’s gonna take me a bit longer to wipe all this off and re-do it.”

“D’you think Ymir told them?”

“Well, obviously. It’s Ymir.”

“True.” Eren pecked the back of Armin’s hand. “Don’t leave me out there with her for too long. I think I’d probably kill myself.”

“You are so—” Armin flicked his forehead, making him yelp. “I promise you’ll survive two minutes in the same room as her.”

“Fine,” Eren grumbled. “I guess I can deal with two minutes.”

Once Eren swiftly got out of the bathroom, Armin pushed himself off the sink and grabbed the fallen lip gloss and eyeliner from the floor, cleaning himself up and re-doing his lips all in the span of one minute. It took a few more after that for Armin to calm himself, but once he was sure his face wasn’t too pink, he left the bathroom and made his way to the living room. Mikasa and Sasha seemed to be finished, grinning at each other in the sick, lovey-dovey way that couples do. Armin instantly noticed the glitter scattered across Sasha’s cheekbones and inner-eye corners, perfectly matching her little pink dress and messy pink wig. Well. At least he knew where Historia’s glitter pen had mysteriously disappeared to.

“Heyyyy, ‘Min!” Sasha called. Mikasa waved with a smile. “What took you so long?”

So Ymir didn’t tell them, then. He scratched the back of his neck. “I kept, er, messing up my makeup. Where are the others?”

“Ymir dragged them to the car a few seconds ago,” Mikasa said. Her hair was up in mini-pigtails tied with bows, and her lips were painted black, matching the color of her long-sleeved crop-top and mini-skirt. About a million different trinkets adorned her fingers and neck, and her boots were so large they made her two inches taller than she already was. “She looked so pissed I thought she was going to bash Eren’s head in the steering wheel.”

Armin nervously laughed and cleared his throat. “You know how those two are. Always going on and on.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes. “Why’s your voice all squeaky?”

“No reason,” he said, quickly making his way to the front door and swinging it open. “Let’s just go. We’re already late.”

They found themselves in the car a moment later, Armin sitting in the passenger’s seat (courtesy of Eren’s driver privileges) while Mikasa, Sasha, Historia, and Ymir were squished into the back. Eren was blasting one of his horrible playlists, loudly screaming along to the song, and Historia was glaring daggers at Armin as if it were his fault. He lightly smacked the side of her head, and she, in turn, pulled hard on his hair.

At least the ride was short, Armin supposed. Once Eren was finished parking in his usual spot outside their— no, his place, they began the five-minute walk to Connie’s apartment on the other side of campus. Mikasa fell into step beside Armin, lacing their arms together and leaning her head against his as Ymir, Historia, and Sasha took turns in berating Eren for his, to quote Historia, “absolutely atrocious, dogshit music taste.”

“I hate to say it, but I’m kind of looking forward to this,” Mikasa mused, drowning out the argument in front of them.

Armin shook his head. “We haven’t even gotten to the stupid party yet, and they’re already fighting.”

“Exactly,” she grinned.

He raised a brow. “You seem in an awfully good mood today. Usually you’re silently sulking all the way until we get to the party.”

Much to his surprise, Mikasa’s cheeks flushed pink, her gaze shifting to Sasha, who was laughing with Historia about something or the other. 

“Something happened,” she said lightly. “With Sasha.”

“Like, in a good way?”

“Obviously,” she muttered. “She asked if I wanted to buy an apartment with her.”

Armin stopped in his tracks, gripping her shoulders and giving her a little shake. A grin had overtaken his face. “Shut up. Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Mikasa swallowed, looking away and tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “We’ve started looking at places.”

“Oh my God,” Armin squealed, wrapping his arms around Mikasa’s shoulders and pulling her in for the tightest hug he could muster. “Mikasa. Oh my God. Fucking finally.”

“You’re going to mess up my costume,” Mikasa giggled, softly patting his back. He drew away with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. But, Miks, I’m so happy for you guys.” He laced their fingers together as they started walking again. “Do you have any idea what you’re looking for yet?”

“Somewhere close,” she said. “There was this really pretty house near campus for a good price that we found earlier, so at some point during the week we’re going to go check it out.”

“Miks,” Armin repeated, his chest warming with affection. The color in her cheeks doubled, and he squeezed her hand. “If you need any help, just ask me.”

She gave him a small smile. “Thanks, ‘Min. I do have one question, though.”

“Anything.”

“Was it also scary for you?” she asked quietly. “With Eren.”

Armin froze for a split second, the question catching him off-guard, before he shook himself and continued moving. “Scary?”

“Were you nervous?” Mikasa clarified. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it— I do, and I’m excited, but, I can’t help but think it won’t work out.”

Armin frowned. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I’m really happy, though, which is probably why I’m so scared.” She pursed her lips. “Does that even make sense?”

“It does,” Armin assured her. He stole a glance at Eren, who was still arguing with Ymir. “I wasn’t, like, scared scared, but it’s normal to be nervous about this stuff. You’re taking a new step in your relationship. It’s not really something you can just brush away.”

“So you weren’t nervous?”

Armin shrugged. He didn’t like thinking about the times before that night one year ago, if he could help it; specifically that time-period between the last day of their senior year and their first day of college, full of naïve hopes and plans that just distracted them from the fact that things were inevitably going to change, for better or for worse. He hadn’t been thinking clearly enough to be nervous. Besides, it was Eren, so anything they could’ve done wouldn’t have been scary as long as they were together. 

“I’ve basically lived with Eren all my life, so it wasn’t really a big change for me. It’s different for you guys, though, and I’d be nervous, too, if I was in your position.”

“You have a point,” she said, swinging their hands in-between them. “How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?”

“You just have to be logical,” Armin said. She chuckled and ruffled his hair with her free hand. “I’m serious! When you actually think about stuff—”

He yelped as Eren suddenly yanked him by the arm with a look of fake disdain in Mikasa’s direction. “Get your hands off him.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s not your property.”

“But he’s my boyfriend. You’re hogging him,” Eren grumbled, grabbing Armin’s other hand. “You think I wanna be stuck talking to Ymir?”

“I heard that, asshole,” Ymir called. “Keep talking and we’ll have a repeat of last time.”

He flipped her off, and Armin rubbed the back of Eren’s hand with his thumb. “You could’ve joined us at any time, my love.”

Crimson spread across Eren’s cheeks, and Armin smiled smugly in satisfaction. “I think you broke him,” Mikasa whispered loudly. 

“Shut up,” Eren muttered. “Nobody’s breaking anything.”

“Mhmmm.”

“May I remind you of the time—”

“Sasha!” Mikasa shouted abruptly. Her girlfriend held a hand out, and Mikasa squeezed Armin’s before breaking away to join her, her face brightening up in instants when Sasha grabbed her by the waist. 

Eren made a gagging noise. “So gross . I’m gonna be sick.”

Armin pecked the back of his hand, and he clamped his mouth shut. “Don’t be disgusting. You were the one getting all jealous for show earlier.”

“For show,” Eren mumbled, and before Armin could ask what he meant, Ymir was ushering them up the few stairs leading to Connie’s building and into the cramped elevator. They all had to squish together, to the point where Eren was resting his chin on the top of Armin’s head and Historia was smashed into Ymir’s side, leaving just enough space for Mikasa and Sasha to link their hands together in front of the elevator door. Armin grimaced; he could already hear music blasting loudly from above.

When they stumbled out into the hallway, it was clear that the party was already in full-swing. Connie and Jean’s door was kept open with a small stool, a few more chairs scattered out around the hallway. From what Armin could see, every inch of the apartment was covered in people, a few leaking out into the hall with loud laughs and drinks in their hands. Armin gripped Eren’s bicep, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy, and Eren pecked the top of his head.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Armin said weakly. “It’s just a lot of people.”

They made their way into the apartment. Unlike Armin, Ymir looked like she’d just stepped into heaven, eyes scanning the room and gleaming when they landed on what he assumed was her first target. “Holy shit. I didn’t expect him to get here this early.”

Sasha raised a brow. “Who?”

“Reiner, duh.”

“And it starts,” Historia sighed. She nudged Armin’s shin with her foot. “Get me or Mikasa if you need anything, ‘kay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Armin told her. “You guys have fun.”

Ymir and Historia left them shortly after, giggling and never straying an inch too far from one another. Sasha yelled, probably spotting Jean or Connie, and Mikasa waved with a smile before Sasha was dragging her away. 

“Eren! Armin!” a shout broke through the relentless beat of drums, and Hitch was weaving her way through the crowd in their direction with two cups of alcohol in her hands. They met her halfway, cramming themselves into the swarm, and she shot Armin a smirk. “Nice dress.”

“Not a dress,” Armin corrected. He was probably going to be saying that a lot tonight.

“Whatever. We all thought you guys were going to bail until I spotted you coming in,” she said, shoving the cups in their hands. “Connie wanted me to give these to you in case he wasn’t able to himself.”

Armin and Eren shared a look, and Armin cleared his throat. “Er, thanks, but I don’t think either of us are going to be drinking tonight.”

Her eyes widened. “Ohhhhh, yeah. Sucks for you.” She snatched them back before they could protest. “Who the fuck do I give these to, then?”

“Ymir,” Eren said immediately. “Then she can’t prank us sober.”

“I don’t think she was planning to be sober, Eren,” Armin muttered, pointing in her direction. She was cackling and shoving a cup full of beer into Historia’s mouth. “Jesus. It hasn’t even been five minutes.”

“Perfect,” Hitch grinned. “Thanks, Jeager. See you, Armin.”

Eren mock-saluted as she hurried across the designated dance floor. “There you go. Crisis number one averted.”

“Crisis number one?”

“Out of probably a million,” Eren said, holding out his arm, and Armin laughed. “C’mon. Connie’s gotta have water, or something.”

“Highly doubt it,” Armin mused.

“Still worth a shot to check.”

Armin scanned the blur of people as they walked to one of the drink-stands Connie had set up. Ymir had moved on to Reiner, who was well on his way to being absolutely piss-drunk, and said something that had his entire face scrunching up. Annie had surprisingly made an appearance, curled into Hitch’s side as she and Jean clinked their cups together and gulped down their drinks. 

After a few more seconds of squeezing through, Eren successfully led them away from the worst of the cluster and just beside the white-plastic table full of drinks, chips, and pizza. “I’m actually gonna kill him if there’s nothing here.”

Armin spotted a bottle of water a few inches away and grabbed it. “Here you go. Just, er, check if there’s anything in there. I’m not a hundred-percent convinced anything here is, like, properly clean.”

“Looks fine,” Eren said, gently pushing Armin’s hand towards his chest. “You have it. I’ll find another one later.”

“I thought you wanted to drink, though?”

“Nah. I came here for you,” Eren told him, and Armin’s chest gave a small flutter. “You’ve gotta stay hydrated and all that shit.”

Armin snorted and took a sip. It tasted relatively normal, thank God, but there was a twinge of something he couldn’t quite place that tingled his tongue. “I know you of all people aren’t talking about staying hydrated.”

“It’s just the facts.”

“You literally refused to drink water until our junior year and survived off of Fanta. Fanta.” Armin took one last gulp and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. The lip gloss should have dried by now. “I don’t even know how you’re still alive without kidney failure.”

“Okay, well—”

“Could you two move? You’re blocking the punch.”

Eren turned, his easy going demeanor turning sour in seconds. Porco was standing behind him with two red cups in his hands, his hair slicked back with so much gel Armin was sure he’d be able to pick off clumps of strands one-by-one. Ugly, way-too-big fake fangs rested against his bottom lip, and a giant black cape was draped over his shoulders. A vampire was the last thing Armin expected him to go as, but, considering who his girlfriend was, he honestly wasn’t that surprised. 

“Porco,” Eren said stiffly, eyeing him up and down. “You look like shit.”

“So do you, as usual,” Porco sneered. “What the hell are you even supposed to be, anyways?”

“Doesn’t take a lot to figure it out.”

Armin patted Eren’s arm, but he still kept staring at Porco like he was deciding whether or not to dunk his head in the bowl of punch. Those two had never gotten along, even after five years since Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie had introduced them. “Sorry, Porco. We were just about to leave.”

Porco squinted his eyes. Armin tightened his hold. “So Pieck wasn’t lying. Congrats, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Armin said carefully. He wasn’t even going to question how Pieck had gotten wind of their fake reconciliation; she always found out everything one way or another. Or maybe Reiner had told her. It didn’t matter either way. That just meant their plan was working.

“Just so you guys know,” Porco started, “and I’m not saying this to be nice or whatever, but Zeke’s here. He was asking about you.”

Eren immediately tensed. “The fuck do you mean, he’s here?”

“That he’s here, you idiot.” 

“Okay, but where?”

“Fucking somewhere, I don’t know. Colt said he’d probably be in the weed room.”

Armin choked. “The what?”

“Weed room,” Porco repeated. Armin resisted the urge to facepalm. No doubt Connie was the one behind that ridiculous idea. “I didn’t think you were that slow, Armin.”

“Watch yourself,” Eren snapped. 

Armin grabbed his hand. “It’s fine, Eren. Let’s go dance. I wanna dance.”

“Asshole,” Eren muttered as Armin led them back into the fray. “Shit. What possessed Connie to invite him? And my brother?”

“I think it was more of a ‘bring a friend’ kind of thing,” Armin said. “Colt probably told them to come. He’s the only one Connie’s really close to, anyways.”

“Still fucking annoying, though,” Eren sighed. He kissed the tip of Armin’s forefinger. “I’m sorry. If I knew he was gonna be here I wouldn’t have taken you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Armin told him. “Besides, if Pieck and Porco know, then he would’ve heard about us either way. I don’t care as long as he doesn’t tell Carla anything.”

“Or my dad. Shit. That’s even worse.”

“Just don’t think about it for now.” Armin tucked a strand of hair behind Eren’s ear. “Seriously, Eren, it’s fine. Forget about it. We’re here to have fun, right?”

“Yeah,” Eren mumbled. Armin stood on his tippy toes and pecked the corner of Eren’s mouth, just because he could, and Eren turned his head so that their lips met. Armin leaned into it, cradling Eren’s neck with one hand and savoring the warmth spreading throughout his body. That sensation was better than any alcohol could ever give him. Eren pulled away with a grin, and Armin had to physically force himself not to chase after his mouth. “Still tastes like strawberry.”

“I didn’t know you liked strawberries so much, Eren.”

“When it’s on you, I do,” Eren said, giving one last peck to his lips. Armin could’ve practically melted into the floor. “You wanna move to a less crowded area?”

Armin took another sip of the water, wincing at the foreign taste hitting again. He eyed the bottle, but still couldn’t find anything relatively weird floating around in the liquid. 

“Armin?”

“Hm? Sorry,” he said. “Yeah, we can go. I feel like I’m suffocating in here.”

Armin and Eren waded into one of the corners of the room, where they found Jean and Marco practically glued together, hands fisted in each other’s messy costumes as they attempted to dance, but were too focused on each other’s mouths to move their feet. Marco opened one eye and spotted them, and he broke away from Jean— whose eyes were glazed over like his soul had left his body— with a grin. “Armin! You came!”

“Of course I did!” Armin shouted, and Marco slung his arm over Armin’s shoulders. Jean furrowed his brows at Eren, who gave him a coy nod in return. “I didn’t think you’d be this sober still.”

“I had only two drinks. Just because all of you are lightweights doesn’t mean I am, too.”

“Hey, I’m not a lightweight,” Jean protested. Marco kissed his cheek.

“Sure, babe.”

“I mean, we could test that theory. Ymir’s gotta be around somewhere…” Eren whistled. Jean glared.

“Shut up. You’re not part of this conversation.”

“You—”

 “Hey, Eren,” Marco interrupted. “You don’t mind if I steal Armin for a bit, do you?”

Armin’s cheeks bloomed red. “To do what, exactly?”

“Dance.” Marco ruffled his hair. “I didn’t get to see you at Historia’s, since you were too busy getting it down in another room.”

“Marco,” Armin gasped as Eren started to cackle. “I swear to—”

“It’s true!” Marco laughed. 

“See, this is why you shouldn’t be allowed near any drinks. You always get so fucking lewd.”

“I’m taking you to dance,” Marco said, no longer asking for permission, and Eren shook his head with a grin.

“I’ll come find you later,” he told Armin. “Call me if you need anything. My phone’s on.”

Armin quickly kissed his lips, and then Marco was hauling him to the largest crush of dancers, where the music was arguably the loudest. Out of all their friends, Marco was definitely the most fun to dance with, never the one to be outdone, always shining and lively. Even though Armin himself was never that good at dancing, Marco was the kind of person to bring out the best in everyone, which was evident now, Marco wrapping his arm respectfully above Armin’s waist as he kept them moving in an almost perfect time to the beat of the music. A part of Armin wished Eren were there to watch him.

“Y’know, I don’t think we’ve ever done a double date,” Marco mused after about six songs-and-a-half. 

Armin stopped to catch his breath; he assumed the sudden achiness in his limbs was from all the dancing, but it felt weirdly off, like he’d been hit by a truck, or something. “That’s what’s on your mind right now?”

“Among other things,” Marco smirked, wiggling his brows. “But I’m serious. We have to at some point.”

“Do you really think Eren and Jean, of all people, are gonna agree to that?”

“We’ll find a way. Or something.” Marco spun him around. “Seems like you and Eren are getting back on it pretty quickly, huh?”

“You saw us at Historia’s party,” Armin said, his cheeks glowing red. “It was bound to happen eventually, I guess. Doesn’t really feel like anything’s changed.”

He tried to ignore how easily the lies were flowing out of him. I’m just keeping up the plan. It’s fine.

“I’m honestly shocked he didn’t die beforehand. That guy is so in love with you he looks sick.”

“I think sick is a stretch,” Armin coughed. He took another gulp from his water, feeling a throb of pain shoot through his head and stomach, but that was probably just because he was so dehydrated earlier. “If anyone looks sick, it’s Jean.”

“Okay, I know he is. You just like to act oblivious,” Marco grinned. “C’mon, let’s get you a drink. It’s kind of illegal that you’ve only had water so far.”

“Eren and I aren’t drinking,” Armin said, “but you can get some for yourself. I know you’ve been waiting for me to say it.”

“You seriously don’t want anything?”

Armin shrugged. “I don’t feel like getting drunk tonight. It’s more fun this way, to be honest, watching everyone making a fool of themselves.”

“I worry for you sometimes, I hope you know that,” Marco sighed, shaking his head and linking their arms as they danced their way to another drink station in the kitchen. Marco poured himself some booze into a plastic cup, and Armin roamed his eyes around the room once again. Connie and Sasha were dancing together, but it was obvious Connie was way more drunk than she was, slurring the lyrics of the song blasting through the speakers as she threw back her head and laughed at him. Mikasa strayed not too far from them, clinging to Historia with her head on her shoulder. Reiner was pulling Annie by the hands, most probably trying to convince her to dance, while Bertholdt watched them with a fond smile on his face. 

Once the alcohol was practically overflowing his cup, Marco was finally satisfied, downing almost half the drink by the time he and Armin joined Historia and Mikasa. Mikasa broke away from Historia and moved on to cling to Armin instead, and Marco began twirling a laughing Historia in circles. 

Armin chuckled and kissed the side of Mikasa’s head. “Hi, Miks.”

“I missed you,” she mumbled, and he couldn’t help the giggles leaving his mouth. She rarely ever got this drunk, but when she did, she was especially affectionate with him. It made him want to wrap her up in a million blankets and hug her so hard it hurt.

“I missed you, too, Miks.” He rocked them back and forth. “You drank way too much.”

“‘S a party,” she slurred. “You’re so warm. Like a teddy bear.”

“A teddy bear?”

“A big ass teddy bear.” She smacked a kiss to his cheek. “I thought you were with Eren? Where’d he go?”

“Marco stole me,” Armin said. Marco winked in their direction, and Historia rolled her eyes.

“You love me,” Marco yelled. “I’m your favorite. Admit it.”

“I’m his favorite,” Mikasa glared. “That’s even my name on his phone. Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh my God?”

“She gets very protective of him when she’s drunk,” Historia told him. Armin wheezed. “Just leave her be. She might try to punch you like she did to Reiner that one time.”

“Historia!” came a shout from behind, and then Ymir was breaking through the swarm, Eren and Sasha behind her. “I got you more beer.”

“Thanks, babe,” Historia grinned, pulling Ymir into a kiss that was way too passionate to watch. Marco gave Armin one last coy smile, then went off to either get another drink or find Jean. Probably both. Mikasa shifted from Armin to Sasha and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, prepping kisses to her cheek and neck that Sasha happily accepted. 

“I missed you,” Eren said to Armin, linking their pinkies together. 

“It’s only been, like, thirty minutes,” Armin blushed.

“That’s way too fucking long for my liking.”

“Hmmmm. I missed you, too.” Armin pecked the side of his jaw. The bass of the speakers thrummed through his bones, and he itched to move, specifically with Eren on him. “Dance with me?”

“Come here,” Eren said, then pulled Armin’s back to his chest and swayed them from side to side to the beat of the music. Armin never had to think when dancing with Eren; they fit together like two perfect pieces of a puzzle, always moving in perfect time with each other no matter what they were doing. He turned his head, and Eren caught his lips in a messy kiss, the angle awkward but enjoyable all the less. 

He felt Eren’s hand on his thigh, and Armin pushed his ass back against him, smiling at the small, whiny sound leaving Eren’s mouth. It’s for the plan. Just for the plan. 

And Eren likes it. 

“We probably look worse than the others right now.”

“Don’t care,” Eren rasped, settling the palm of his hand flat on Armin’s stomach and holding him closer. “You feel good.”

If the man-handling before wasn’t enough, then that was certainly what pushed Armin over the edge. He turned so that their chests were pressed together, wrapping his arms around Eren’s neck and continuing to grind against him, and Eren gripped his waist, more and more sounds that bordered on small moans filling the air between them. “Is this okay?”

“More than,” Armin said breathlessly. 

“Just tell me if you want to stop,” Eren murmured, which was probably the stupidest thing he’s ever said, because how would Armin ever want to stop? He just kissed him again instead of answering verbally, and Eren eagerly followed his lead, his tongue pressing into his mouth and staying there.

Armin pulled away slightly when the sensations of Eren on his skin were too much, too hot, taking one last sip and finishing his water as Eren moved to place sloppy kisses against his neck. More and more people were migrating into the hallway, where Armin assumed to be the location of the weed room. Which room it was actually in, he wasn’t sure. Connie and Jean’s apartment had four in total, two reserved for them and the other two used as guest rooms. He would guess one of the guest rooms, but it wouldn’t be unlike Connie to suggest that he use his own room. 

Just as he was about to lift Eren’s head and press their lips together again, he spotted Zeke leaving the hall, eyes landing on them and widening, and Armin felt like he was going to sink into the floor and die.

He choked and nudged Eren with his foot. “Eren.”

“Hm?” His voice was muffled by Armin’s skin. Armin gripped his shoulders and gently pushed him away. 

“Er, don’t freak out, but Zeke is looking at us.”

“What?” Eren whipped his head around, all the color leaving his face. “Oh, fuck no.”

“Eren,” Armin said softly. He intertwined their fingers together and gave Eren’s hand a small squeeze. “Maybe he just wants to say hi?”

“I’d rather kill myself. Fucking—”

“What’s he doing now?” Armin stood on his tippy toes to try and catch a glimpse, cursing his height. “I’ve lost him.”

“He’s coming over here,” Eren groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. Armin noted the obvious flush staining his cheeks and neck. “Of all the fucking times, he had to choose now?” 

“We were going to run into him either way,” Armin said. “I don’t think he saw that much.”

“Armin, you were grinding on me not even two seconds ago.”

Armin flushed. “ Whatever. It’s fine. Embarrassment is a social construct, anyways. There are definitely people doing worse, so I don’t care.”

“Embarrassment is what?”

“A social construct. Society made it up, so as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t exist.”

Eren seemed to ponder this. “Wait a sec, you kinda have a point.”

“Exactly.”

“But it’s still my brother,” Eren shuddered. “I see him every fucking weekend. He visits my parents. Connie’s dead to me for this, I swear to God. Never a-fucking-gain—”

“He’s here,” Armin hissed just as Zeke stepped into view. He tried for a smile, but Eren’s face stayed in a grimace, his hand gripping Armin’s so hard it hurt. 

Zeke stared for a moment. It was the first time Armin had ever seen him look so… speechless? He blinked, glancing in-between Armin and Eren, then rubbed his beard with his hand after another few seconds, seemingly snapping himself out of the shock.

“Well,” he said awkwardly. “This is… huh.”

“Zeke,” Eren started. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Ouch, Eren,” Zeke chuckled. “Is my presence really that jarring to you?”

“Answer the question.”

“Colt extended the invite,” Zeke told him, confirming Armin’s earlier suspicions. “Anyways. I should be the one asking you the questions, if we’re being honest.” He waved. “Hi, Armin.”

“Hi,” Armin said tentatively. 

Eren furrowed his brows. “This is none of your business. I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“I never said you had to,” Zeke clarified. “But it’d be nice to know why I caught you and your ex-boyfriend kissing and doing God-knows-what—”

“Just boyfriend,” Eren interrupted. Zeke’s brows practically flew to his hairline.

“Oh, shit. Since when?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“Does Carla know?”

“How many times do I—” Eren took a deep breath. “No, she doesn’t, and dad doesn’t, either, so you’re not allowed to tell them anything.”

“I wasn’t even planning to. What do you take me for?” Zeke sighed. “No wonder you seemed so happy lately. I was starting to think you were dating someone else.”

Armin tensed at that, but Eren merely shrugged. “Kind of a stupid idea, since there won’t be anyone else, but okay.”

Armin’s heart did a little squeeze in his chest, even though he knew Eren was just saying that to keep up their arrangement. Still, he cherished the words all the same.

Zeke snorted. “You guys are just as sappy as before, eh?”

“It’s the truth.”

“You were broken up for a whole year, so forgive me for assuming anything.”

“Whatever,” Eren grumbled. “Now you know. So can you leave us alone already?”

Zeke held his hands in the air. “Yes, yes. I just wanted to say congratulations, and all. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Uh huh,” Eren said, but his face softened despite the iciness of his tone. “Seriously, Zeke, don’t say shit. I mean it.”

“I won’t, I swear,” Zeke promised as he began to shuffle away, giving one last unreadable look in their direction. Once he was out of eyeshot, Eren slumped his shoulders and exhaled. Armin felt his body go weirdly slack, too, but he guessed it was just from the relief of not feeling like every one of his moves was being watched. 

“He’s always so fucking nosy,” he muttered. Armin kissed his clothed shoulder, and Eren let go of his hand to cup Armin’s face with both, prepping a few light kisses to the tip of his nose. 

“I think it’s just a sibling thing,” Armin said. “You should’ve seen how crazy Historia was acting in the beginning. He’s just worried about you, so don’t take any of it too personally.”

“It’s still annoying, though. I bet on everything I own he’s gonna start interrogating me again as soon as he comes over to my mom’s house next weekend.” Eren then frowned, his eyes scanning Armin’s face, and before he could ask what was wrong, Eren pressed his lips to Armin’s forehead. The kiss was longer than usual, like Eren was trying to feel for something, but Armin liked it, leaning into the touch and missing the pressure when it was gone. “Armin?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re warm,” he said quietly. 

Armin snorted. “Well, yeah, we’re at a party, Eren.”

“No, like, really warm.” He kissed his forehead again. “Do you feel okay?”

“I feel a bit, like, heavy, but not that bad at all.”

Eren then pressed his lips to his neck, and Armin’s breath caught in his throat. “Eren, I’m fine.”

“You’re burning up,” Eren murmured. “Did you feel off before we got here?”

“No,” Armin said, and it was true. He only started feeling weird after that drink, but he’d assumed— oh.

“Shit,” Armin whispered. Eren pecked the spot underneath his eye.

“What is it, love?”

“It was that stupid fucking water,” Armin groaned, feeling the muscles in his legs and arms turn to putty. That explained why he’d been so sluggish with Marco earlier— every single sip had him basically kneeling over in pain. Either someone had put something in that bottle, or it’d been contaminated from the start. Armin desperately prayed it was the latter. “Shit—”

“I’m taking you home,” Eren decided, but Armin shook his head. “Armin, it’s not debatable. You need to get medicine.”

“If I go, then my parents are gonna freak out if they see me like this, and I really don’t need them stressing out over me. The costume is already bad enough.”

“Okay, but where the hell are you gonna go?”

“Historia’s,” Armin said immediately. Then he scrunched his nose. “Shit, wait, she didn’t bring her keys.”

“Why?”

“She was gonna go home with Mikasa and Sasha and crash there, I think. Or here.” He rubbed his forehead, and the room started to spin a bit. “Fuck, this sucks. I guess I could just sneak through my window, or something—”

“Not in this state, you’re not,” Eren said firmly. Then he sighed, a bit of color filling his cheeks. “I’ll take you to mine.”

Armin blinked. “Huh?”

“I said, I’ll take you to my place. Only if you’re okay with it,” Eren added. “I mean, there aren’t that many options, and it’s only a five minute walk, and you’re, like, weirdly adamant on not going to your parents even though they’d probably prefer that, but. Uh, yeah.”

Armin’s knees wobbled, and Eren gently steadied him with his hands. It wasn’t as if that was technically a bad plan— it was pretty brilliant, actually, if you left out the fact that it had been their place a year ago, right until everything had come crashing down. Armin still dreamt of that apartment, sometimes thinking he’d woken up in their old bed, feeling Eren’s arms wrapped around his torso in a hazy, sleep-riddled bliss, then snapping himself out of it when he reached over to nudge Eren awake and found that the other side of his bed was empty. Actually going there and seeing it with his own eyes would probably melt his already fuzzy brain into a puddle.

But, then again, he was kind of desperate. And maybe he was just blowing this out of proportion, as he usually did in situations when he couldn’t think clearly. It was an apartment. Just a stupid, normal apartment that happened to belong to Eren and used to belong to him. As long as he didn’t think about nights spent baking in that kitchen, or building pillow forts in the living room, or stargazing on the balcony, then he should be fine. Maybe. Maybe.

“Sounds good,” Armin croaked. Eren squeezed his shoulders.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Eren pulled him close, and Armin buried his face in his chest, desperately hoping Eren couldn’t feel the slight shake in his frame. “We’ve gotta let at least one of the others know, though, so they don’t freak out.”

“I don’t know where my sister and Ymir went,” Armin said, his voice muffled by Eren’s vest. “But I think Sasha and Mikasa went to the couch. Miks looked like she was gonna pass out, as well.”

“Okay. Stay close to me,” Eren said lowly, and he started shuffling them through the crowd to the other side of the room. Armin kept his arms wrapped around Eren’s waist, his body temperature climbing by the second. Eren must’ve noticed his shivering, because he kept planting soft kisses on the top of his head, murmuring things Armin couldn’t hear over the music. It felt like hours before they reached the only seating area set up in the apartment, but when they did, Armin was able to spot Sasha and Mikasa on the couch almost immediately. Mikasa was completely out cold, as expected, and had her head sitting snugly in the crook of Sasha’s neck. Sasha was awake, though, and gave them a concerned frown as they got closer.

“What the hell happened to him?” Sasha asked, her brows pulling together. “Did you end up drinking anything?”

Eren shook his head. “He had an iffy water-bottle and I think a fever is starting. I’m gonna take him back to mine till it comes down.”

“Shit.” Sasha shot Armin a sympathetic smile. “I hope you feel better, dude. Let me know if you need me to get you anything.”

“Thanks, Sash,” Armin said, trying to grin despite how tired his face-muscles felt. Eren gave Sasha a nod, then wrapped his arm around Armin’s shoulders again, and before he knew it, they were through the swarm and out the front door. By this point, Armin was fully relying on Eren for support; he could barely feel his legs, much less any point on his entire body. Eren quickly caught the elevator right as it hit Connie’s floor, and he let Armin snuggle against him as they waited to reach the lobby.

It was when they walked into the chilly night that Armin stopped him. “Wait, Eren.”

“What’s wrong?” Eren asked urgently. “Is it too cold?”

“No,” Armin lied. He was cold, yes, but that wasn’t his main concern, at the moment. “I need to text my parents and tell them I’ll probably be coming home later than expected. They’re gonna wait for me otherwise. Can you get my phone from my pocket?”

“Here,” Eren said, fishing out Armin’s phone and handing it to him. He fumbled a bit trying to plug in his password, but once he was in, he immediately went to the family group chat. It was easier than texting them individually, and maybe then Historia could also get his message and not jump to a million conclusions when she found out that he’d left.

Ackersmiths + Mikasa😚😚👨‍👨‍👧‍👦 (Just now, 12:01 a.m.)

Armin: Hi guys

Armin: I just wanted to let you know that I might not be coming home tonight, so go to sleep

Levi responded in seconds, which wasn’t surprising at all. “We can keep going,” Armin told Eren, and he continued to walk them in the direction of his apartment.

Pa 🧡: did something happen?

Armin: Nope, everything’s fine

Pa 🧡: i can smell the lies coming off the screen

Armin: WHAT

Armin: Why would I lie

Dad💚: My dear son, if something is wrong, please do not hesitate to tell us! We are always here to listen and advise.

-Erwin Smith

Armin: Aw thanks dad 😭and you don’t need to sign your name on every text lmao I told you this

Dad💚: But then how will you know that it’s me??

- Erwin Smith

Armin: Because it’s your number

Pa 🧡: back to the main point please

Tori AKA the devil herself: ARMIN

Armin: Hi Tori

Tori AKA the devil herself: sasha just told me everything

Tori AKA the devil herself: you fucking idiot

Tori AKA the devil herself: how many times have i told u not to drink ANYTHING just laying around at connie’s parties??

Pa 🧡: excuse me

Armin: HISTORIA.

Armin: It was an accident first of all

Pa 🧡: for the love of christ

Pa 🧡: did he get sick

Armin: …

Armin: Um

Pa 🧡: k 

Pa 🧡: and i'm guessing you left the party

Tori AKA the devil herself: oopsies

Armin: I’m sorry Pa I just didn’t want to bother you at all

Armin: It’s seriously nothing

Pa 🧡: why r u apologizing??

Pa 🧡: i’m not mad 

Pa 🧡: just worried

Pa 🧡: and u being sick is not a bother

Pa 🧡: ur ok???

Armin: Yeah

Dad💚: 😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢

-Erwin Smith

Dad💚: It’s cold out. Where are you going?

-Erwin Smith

He hesitated for a moment, sneaking a peek at Eren, who was already looking at him. “Eren?”

“Hm?”

“It won’t really be breaking our conditions if I tell them I’m staying at yours, right?” he asked sheepishly. “Sorry. Levi saw through my shit immediately.”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t want them knowing,” Eren reminded him. “I don’t mind at all. It’s your choice.”

“I’ll just say it’s a friendly thing. Which it is,” Armin muttered. Eren nodded.

Armin: Eren offered to let me stay at his apartment 

Armin: It’s only five minutes away from Connie’s

Armin: So yeah

Pa 🧡: oh?

Pa 🧡: didn’t know you were that comfortable again

Armin: He’s my friend, Pa

Tori AKA the devil herself: 😂

Armin: Historia what the FUCK

Pa 🧡: watch your fucking language

Pa 🧡: and make sure to take proper medication when u get there

Pa 🧡: let us know if anything changes

Pa 🧡: the keys to the house r in the usual hiding spot in case u end up coming back home later

Pa 🧡: love u both

Pa 🧡: ♥️

Dad💚: We love you guys very much! 🥰❤️

-Erwin Smith

Armin: I love you guys too

Armin: ❤️

Tori AKA the devil herself: awww i love u guys

Tori AKA the devil herself: but that was so corny wtf

Pa🧡: 🤦🏻 

Armin shoved his phone back into his pocket, sharply inhaled, and leaned his head against Eren’s shoulder. “My head feels like it’s gonna explode.”

“We’re literally ten seconds away,” Eren assured him, and Armin spotted Eren’s car in its parking spot. “I’ll give you ibuprofen and then I’ll make you some hot chocolate, okay? Mom’s recipe.”

Armin’s chest warmed, and he remembered all the times Carla had made him the drink whenever he’d been under the weather. “Thank you, ‘Ren. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“That’s probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” Eren sighed, helping Armin up the small steps and into the brightly lit lobby. Armin had to squint his eyes to stop a few tears from falling. “I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“Sap,” Armin tried, but all the air had left his lungs. Eren was giving him this serious look, like he meant every word he said and more, and Armin had to give it his all not to do something stupid like pull him down and kiss him so hard they fell over. Not that he would be able to, anyway, seeing as his arms were basically blocks of cement, but it was the thought that counted. All he could do was squeeze Eren’s waist as hard as he could and pray he got the message.

As they slowly but surely approached the seventh floor of the building, that dreading feeling in Armin’s chest became heavier and heavier by the second. If Eren could tell, he didn’t say anything, just held Armin to his side and rubbed soothing circles against his back. He helped Armin out into the familiar, dark hallway once the elevator doors screeched open, and Armin kept taking deep breaths, both to steady his climbing anxiety and to ease the pain seeping through his limbs. He was so focused on the intake and release of his breaths that he hadn’t noticed the click of Eren’s keys turning in the lock. Eren didn’t open it immediately, though, instead giving Armin a look he couldn’t quite read.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

“I said so, didn’t I?” Armin murmured. Those five words felt like shooting pain on his tongue. “It’s okay, Eren.”

Eren pursed his lips but didn’t press him any further, then fully pushed open the door and turned on the main lights after another moment. Armin swallowed and took in the sight. The first thing he noticed was the new placement of the couch; instead of being in the middle of the living room, it was now pushed up against the right wall and facing the TV, which was propped up on a wooden stand not too far away. The dining table had been completely rid of, the only other seating area being the new stools set in front of the kitchen island. Other than that, things were still relatively the same; multiple photos were still hung on the walls, too far for Armin to make out their contents, and the ashy-gray of the carpeted floor still contrasted against the white tiles of the kitchen. It was… different, but familiar. Armin’s chest ached.

“Come,” Eren said, snapping him out of his thoughts, and gently led him inside. “Do you wanna change into something different? That costume can’t be comfortable.”

“I don’t have anything,” Armin muttered. Eren scratched the top of his head just right, and if Armin were any weaker, he would’ve let out a very, very embarrassing sound. Thankfully, he was able to keep his mouth shut.

“You can borrow some of my stuff. It’ll be big, but I guess that’s better for you, since you’re probably freezing right now.”

“Yeah,” Armin shuddered, feeling goosebumps prickle against his skin. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Meet me back out here when you’re done, okay?” Eren kissed the side of his head. “And holler if you need any help. Do you want me to walk you?”

Armin shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ll be quick.”

“Take your time, ‘Min.”

Armin forced himself to move after that, wobbling down the hall to the left and feeling his throat close up at the sight of their— no, Eren’s bedroom, at the end of it. He stared at the doorknob for a few seconds, hand hovering over the metal surface, before he cursed himself for being an absolute idiot and clicked it open. It’s just a bedroom. Just a stupid bedroom. It’s not going to kill you.

He felt the wall for the lights and winced when the brightness hit him. The room smelt weird, like it’d been drenched in air freshener— or maybe it was just because Armin hadn’t stepped foot inside it for a year. Besides that, everything was just the same as Armin remembered it. The bed was still placed in the middle of the room with the headboard sitting against the wall, and the dark red curtains were drawn over the window on the left. The floor was wooden instead of carpet, creaking as he stepped inside. He swallowed, feeling his throat get dry as he stared at the semi-messy sheets. Even now, Eren still forgot to make his bed. Typical.

“Get your shit together,” Armin muttered to himself, feeling hot prickles against his eyes, before he made a beeline for the closet on the right near the door. After digging through Eren’s clothes, he decided on a random T-shirt, hoodie, and sweatpants, because those would be the easiest to change into. Changing out of his costume, however, was a completely different story.

After taking off his shoes and keeping on his socks, he slowly began untying the laces on the back of his corset from the bottom to the top, wincing at how the movement made his wrists and shoulders throb with a muted pain. Once he was done with that, he moved on to unclasping the front busk, and then he wiggled his way out of the corset, sighing in relief at the lack of tightness around his ribs. Getting out of his shirt and pants was tricky, since they were connected at the waistline, but he was able to do so after a lot of shifting and patience. He folded them neatly and placed them on the edge of the bed, the corset sitting on the ground beneath them, then shoved himself into the comfortable fabric of Eren’s clothes. They were warm and helped the shivering a bit, which he was thankful for. The smell of Eren’s cologne on them sent tingling sensations all the way down to the tips of his fingers, but he’d be damned if he ever admitted that aloud. Or to himself, for that matter.

When he made his way back into the living room, Eren was filling a glass with water using the tap. Upon seeing him, he beckoned for Armin to join him, setting the glass on the kitchen island and engulfing him in a hug. Armin inhaled deeply, letting his eyes shut as Eren began to run his fingers through his hair.

“Hi, love,” Eren whispered. Armin squeezed his torso so hard he was sure it hurt, but Eren made no indication of that. “I got the meds ready for you. You’re gonna have to take this pill every six hours, at least.”

“Mmmm,” Armin hummed, fighting tooth and nail to stay awake. It was almost impossible— Eren was so warm and inviting and just Eren. The clothes he’d put on weren’t much help, either. 

“Minnie,” Eren said softly. “Seriously, as much as I wanna keep hugging you, you’ve gotta take it. It’s for your own good.”

Armin lightly hit Eren’s back, and he laughed. “Where ‘s it?” 

“Here.” Eren pulled away, much to Armin’s disdain, and grabbed the pill from the bottle. He put it in the palm of Armin’s hand, then gave him the glass of water in the other. Armin swallowed it down in a few gulps and downed the rest of the water even after the pill was gone. “See? Wasn’t so hard, right?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” Armin said quietly.

Eren planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “C’mere. You look like you’re gonna collapse.”

“It’s so fucking cold,” Armin complained as Eren laced their hands together and led them to the couch. He pulled Armin onto his lap, and Armin snuggled his head underneath his chin, warmth spreading throughout his entire body when Eren tightly wrapped his arms around his waist. “Jesus. What the fuck was in that bottle?”

“I think it’s best for both of us that we don’t know,” Eren muttered. “The pill should kick in soon, hopefully. What time do you want me to drive you home?”

Armin yawned and raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I just thought—” Eren cleared his throat. “Your parents are expecting you to come back at some point, right? So…”

“Oh.” Embarrassment immediately pooled in Armin’s stomach. “Yeah. Right.”

Silence stretched between them for a few moments, and if Armin weren’t basically on the verge of dying, he would’ve smacked himself senseless. God, what was he thinking? Eren had only offered to keep him here until his fever cooled down, not to let him stay the night. Not to mention, this was their old apartment. Sure, Eren was snuggly and warm, but that wasn’t any excuse to just let himself drift off to sleep like an idiot. Now he’d probably just messed everything up, as usual, and Eren was going to—

“Stay,” Eren murmured. Armin’s breath hitched.

“Huh?”

“Stay over, if you want.” Eren pressed his lips to Armin’s head, the touch heightening Armin’s already sensitive skin. “I can sleep on the couch. It’s no biggie.”

“But it’s your house,” Armin croaked. “I’m not kicking you out of your own room just because I have some stupid fever.”

Eren snorted. “Okay, but I’m offering. ‘Min, do you really think you’re gonna be able to get up and walk to the car like this?”

Obviously not, but he wasn’t going to say that aloud. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m the guest, anyways.”

“Don’t even—”

“Eren.”

“I honest to God don’t care. Seriously, ‘Min—”

“But I do.”

“And you shouldn’t.” 

Armin blew out a breath, his cheeks warming at the suggestion waiting on his tongue. We can both sleep in the bed. But wouldn’t that make Eren uncomfortable? This whole arrangement was fake, after all— the fact that Eren was even doing something like this for him was too much already. Asking for more than that would be crossing a line.

He’d just go home. That was the safest, easiest option, as tempting as Eren’s offer was. 

Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, Eren beat him to it. “I don’t mind sleeping next to you, Armin. Only if you’re okay with it, since you’re getting so worked up about me hypothetically sleeping on the couch.”

Can he read my fucking mind, or something? Armin thought uneasily. He cleared his throat, praying that his voice didn’t sound too off as he said, “I guess that’s a fair compromise.”

“Fair compromise, he says,” Eren chuckled, and then he was scooping a yelping Armin up in his arms and striding to the bedroom. Within moments, Armin was being gently let down onto the bed, Eren pecking his nose and tucking him underneath the covers. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna go change in the bathroom, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Armin squeaked, still not fully convinced this was actually happening. Eren grinned and kissed his cheek one last time before rummaging through his closet, taking out pajamas Armin couldn’t see in the dark. He left the room, and Armin let his eyes drift shut, still shivering so badly his shoulders shook. He didn’t know how long Eren was gone, his mind floating in the gray area between consciousness and unconsciousness, but the sudden dip in the mattress caused him to jolt fully awake.

“You good, ‘Min? I can hear your teeth chattering.”

“Just cold,” Armin forced out. He felt Eren’s hand grazing his palm, and Armin intertwined their fingers together, savoring the newfound warmth even if it was just in his fingers.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Eren asked quietly. A low sound came from Armin’s throat, and that was apparently all the confirmation Eren needed to tenderly pull Armin closer, wrapping his arms around his lower back. Armin let his head fall against Eren’s chest, hearing his heartbeat in a slow, gentle rhythm, and fisted his hands in Eren’s shirt. “Shh, ‘Min, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Armin hummed, any energy he could’ve fostered leaving him in instants. Eren kept rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings into his ear with the occasional kiss to his forehead. With every word and touch to his skin, Armin slowly felt himself surrendering to slumber, Eren’s voice becoming more and more muffled with every second that passed. He faintly registered the soft laugh and mumble of goodnight, and then he was out cold.

Chapter Text

Armin had woken up twice during the course of the night. The first time, at around four in the morning, was when the hot spikes of pain had begun to shoot through his stomach. He’d bolted up in a panic, heaving and clutching his torso as bile rose to his throat, and Eren, being the absolute angel that he was, had gotten out of bed with no complaints, carried him to the bathroom, and had soothingly rubbed his hand up and down Armin’s back as he’d retched into the toilet. Then, at six, Eren had gently shaken him awake to take the second dosage of his medicine, and Armin easily fell back into a snooze right after in Eren’s arms.

Now, Armin awoke again, his hand immediately shooting out to feel for Eren’s warmth, but he was met with empty, tangled sheets; the flashing red of the clock on the bedside table told him it was approximately 11:48 in the morning. He frowned and tried his best to blink away the blurry spots in his vision—the lack of sleep from the night before must’ve messed him up even more than his fever.

At least he didn’t feel that cold now. He was shivering, yes, but he’d definitely been rid of that awful sickness—his little puking fit had probably gotten all that contaminated water out of his system. Groaning, he forced himself to sit upright. Questions of where Eren was roamed around his mind, but his main focus at the moment was getting out of bed. Sleeping in it all by himself just felt like a punch to the gut, reminding him of all the times he’d woken up in his parents’ house thinking he was here.

He winced as his feet touched the icy-cold wooden floor. Their—Eren’s apartment, he reminded himself—was always freezing in the mornings, even during the summer. They didn’t know whether it was a malfunction with the vents or the building itself, but it had never been fixed, and they’d been more than content to snuggle up to each other in their sleepy states to conserve body heat. Armin smiled for a moment, then shook away the memory. Those mornings were gone, and they were never coming back. The only reason Eren had slept next to him was because he was sick. Nothing more, nothing less.

He creaked open the door to the hallway and heard Eren’s muffled voice bouncing off the walls. A part of him wanted to sprint back to the bedroom, shove himself beneath the covers, and pretend to sleep, dreading the idea of talking about whatever the hell last night had been, but the more logical side of him compelled him to move, seeing as they were going to have to speak to each other eventually. May as well do it now than to agonize over it later. 

“...Yeah, he’s still asleep. I gave him the second dose, like, three-ish hours ago?”

Armin found him pacing back and forth in the living room with his phone to his ear. Eren spotted him in the entrance of the hall and grinned, his eyes practically sparkling. The sun coming in from the window shrouded his hair in an almost golden light, a few strands in the front glowing against his tan skin. Armin held his hands up, but all Eren responded with was a finger to his lips.

“So I just give him another one at twelve?” He beckoned Armin forwards, and Armin hesitantly made his way over, flushing when Eren gently slung his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. Armin buried his head in the crook of Eren’s neck; he was so cozy he could’ve fallen asleep again right then and there, but Eren’s next response snapped him awake. “Okay. Yeah, okay, got it. Thanks, dad. Yeah, you too, bye.”

Armin lifted his head and raised a brow when Eren ended the call. “What was that all about?”

“I was just asking my dad about what medicine to give you. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything about the plan,” Eren added quickly. “I told him I let you stay over out of convenience.”

“That’s fine,” Armin mumbled. “What’d he say?”

“To give you one more pill at twelve and that you should be fine after that.” Eren kissed his forehead, and Armin wanted to ask him why he was suddenly being so affectionate before he remembered that Eren was probably practicing touching. Or kissing? Either way, it was still just for practice. “Speaking of, you look a lot better.”

“I feel a lot better, too,” Armin coughed. He cupped Eren’s cheek with one hand and stroked his thumb back and forth as tenderly as he could, smiling at the way red began to prickle underneath Eren’s skin. “By the way, thank you for staying with me last night, even though you didn’t have to. Like, at all. I would’ve probably choked and died on my own vomit if it weren’t for you.”

“You know I love sleeping next to you either way,” Eren murmured, putting his hand on top of Armin’s and stilling his movements. Armin’s heart slowly but surely began to pick up its pace. “And I did it ‘cause I wanted to. I didn’t have to do anything, so you better stop thinking shit like that, alright?”

“Still—” Armin started, but Eren moved his hand to his mouth in seconds. “E’en, l'eh’e’o.”

“I’m not letting you finish that sentence.”

“‘Uck ‘ou.”

“What was that?” Eren teased. Armin furrowed his brows. “Couldn’t hear you, Minnie.”

Armin’s face warmed at the nickname, and the smirk on Eren’s face told him he definitely felt it. “E’en.”

“You know, if you don’t start speaking up—” Armin bit his hand, and Eren yelped, yet he still didn’t pull away. “Ow, what the hell, Armin?”

“Th’s wha’u’get.”

“Fucking hell,” Eren grumbled, but his voice was laced with fondness more than anything. He finally relented after a moment and let go, Armin grinning at him as he did so. “Jesus, ‘Min, you didn’t have to bite me.”

“But it made you let go, didn’t it?” Armin said coyly. “Look at you, harassing someone on their deathbed. I didn’t think you’d stoop that low, Eren.”

“Your deathbed, huh?” Eren snorted. Armin screamed as Eren hoisted him up in his arms, clutching at his shoulders and wrapping his legs around his waist for support. “Don’t think anyone on their deathbed would be able to scream.”

“You are so—”

“Amazing, I know. No need to flatter me, baby.”

“—Annoying,” Armin finished, trying to ignore how that pet name made something hot and melted ooze into his chest. Eren kissed his cheek, and Armin just held onto him tighter, not wanting to let go in the slightest. 

“Ouch, ‘Min, that cuts.”

Armin pecked Eren’s neck and grinned at the way he visibly swallowed. “In a good way, of course.”

“You can be annoying in a good way?” Eren asked, his voice a bit breathless. Armin then kissed the spot between Eren’s neck and shoulder he knew Eren liked, and Eren practically mewled, his fingers grasping the fabric of the hoodie Armin was wearing. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days, I hope you know that.”

“How so?” Armin whispered, pressing a longer kiss to that spot this time, careful to remind himself that this was just for practice. That it had nothing to do with the way Eren’s breaths started coming in short, or the thrum of his heartbeat rattling against Armin’s lips. Nothing at all.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Eren muttered. Armin kissed right underneath his jaw, and he could see the goosebumps prickling against Eren’s skin. “Jesus.”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Armin snorted. “You’re the one getting all worked up—”

“Who says I’m worked up?”

Armin pulled back so that they were face to face and ran a hand through Eren’s hair. His eyes were blown wide, and his lips were parted as he let out tiny little pants. That look, one Armin had seen many times in other places, made heat shoot through his stomach, but he made himself keep his composure, because he knew Eren would take any opportunity to tease him the second he came back to his senses. 

“I mean, you look pretty worked up to me, Eren.”

“Little shit,” Eren rasped. In seconds, Armin was being pinned down on the couch, and Eren started kissing him almost everywhere; his cheeks, his neck, his nose, but never his mouth. Armin couldn’t help the grin on his face and the laughs he let out, feeling Eren’s undone hair tickle his face as he continued to attack him with his lips. 

“Eren,” Armin giggled, but Eren just kept going, focusing on a particular spot right under Armin’s ear that had his toes curling in his socks. “Oh my— that tickles, dammit.”

Eren then moved so that they were facing each other again. He placed a soft kiss to the tip of Armin’s nose, then to both his cheeks again. “Have I ever told you how cute your dimples are?”

Armin gulped, his eyes darting between Eren’s eyes and mouth. “Multiple times, actually.”

“Well, I’ll just say it again, then.” Eren’s breath was hot against Armin’s face, his lips barely brushing against the corner of his mouth. “I love your dimples. And your face. And—”

Armin shut him up by finally, finally kissing him, tangling his hands in Eren’s hair and letting out a little whine as Eren pressed closer for a moment, his hand settling against the curve of Armin’s cheek. Then he pulled away with a frown, and Armin realized what he’d just done, how fucking stupid he was . He sucked in a breath, an apology forming itself on the tip of his tongue, but Eren opened his mouth before he could speak. “I didn’t know that was allowed.”

“What?” Armin asked. 

Eren blushed, the sight so adorable and so Eren that Armin had to physically hold himself down just so he wouldn’t kiss him again. 

“I didn’t know I was allowed to kiss you.”

“Eren, you’ve been kissing me,” Armin pointed out. Eren shook his head.

“I meant, uh, on the mouth. I thought that wasn’t allowed unless there were other people in the room,” Eren mumbled. Oh. “We did yesterday at Historia’s, but that was just ‘cause they were gonna catch us eventually. If I’d known, I would’ve done it a million times already.”

Armin blinked, once again wondering how the hell Eren just said things like that so casually. He wants to kiss me. “Well, er— it’s practice, isn’t it? For when we do it around other people.”

Eren seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, like everything Armin was saying made total sense. “ Yeah, you’re right. It’s practice.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“God, you’re so smart,” Eren grinned, and then he was slotting their lips together again and cradling Armin’s face with both hands. Armin squeezed his eyes shut and kissed Eren like he was the only source of oxygen left on the planet, letting his hands fall from Eren’s hair and migrate to the hem of his shirt, hovering there in a silent question. Eren moved his hips forward as an answer, and Armin’s fingers touched the expanse of skin, feeling the hard press of Eren’s muscles underneath. Eren let out a low, throaty sound, and held Armin closer as if any ounce of space between them would kill him. Armin was sure it would.

The kiss was nothing like the ones they’d shared in the past few weeks. Of course, those had been heavenly, fast, hot, and consistent in leaving Armin breathless, but this one. It was slow and warm, like they had all the time in the world. Like nothing else existed but the push and pull of their lips, Eren’s little sounds each time Armin so much as grazed his stomach, the way Eren lightly tangled his fingers in Armin’s hair and gave a light tug, Armin’s high-pitched noise in response. 

“You still like it when I do that, huh?” Eren laughed, the sound brushing against Armin’s lips. He gave another experimental tug, and Armin covered his mouth in an attempt to stop the soft sound ripping from his throat, but it was no use. “Knew it.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Armin breathed.

Eren smirked, sending hot spikes to Armin’s chest. “Didn’t know you were so needy, Armin.”

“I’m not needy.”

“Says the one begging me to kiss him.”

“I mean, we can stop if you want…” Armin started, but he couldn’t finish, because Eren was kissing him again, drawing an embarrassing almost-moan from Armin’s mouth. Eren was grinning, which ruined the fit of their mouths, but Armin was more than content to tilt his head and kiss him better, earning another laugh against his lips. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Eren said, giving two quick pecks to his mouth. “You’re just so cute.”

“Sap,” Armin said weakly, reaching up to press their lips together again. They kissed like that for a bit, keeping up the slow, gentle rhythm, tangling their fingers in each other’s hair, Eren’s leg shifting so that it slotted between Armin’s. His jaw was beginning to hurt, but it didn't matter; focusing on kissing Eren was far more important to him than that dull pain. Unfortunately for him, it was Eren who pulled back first with a smile playing on his reddened lips. Armin pouted, and a few giggles left his mouth.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that, ‘Min. Your jaw’s gonna be sore for the rest of the day if we keep this up.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Armin lied.

“Mhmmmm.” Eren gave one last kiss to his lips, and then he was sitting up, pulling Armin with him. “C’mon, you’ve gotta eat. I don’t want you on an empty stomach for too long.”

“Or we could just stay here. That’s a lot better, in my opinion.”

“Don’t tempt me, please,” Eren told him as he grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen. “What do you feel like?”

Kissing you, Armin thought, but he shoved that thought down with a gulp. “Er, anything’s fine.”

Eren shook his head with a snort and opened the fridge. “Ah, shit, are you kidding me?”

“What?” 

“I forgot to go grocery shopping with mom last week,” he groaned, shooting Armin an apologetic look. “Sorry, love. I only have cereal.”

“I just said I’d have anything,” Armin murmured, wrapping his arms around Eren’s waist and letting his nose rest against the bumps of his spine through his shirt, because Eren was warm and Armin found that he didn’t really like it when they weren’t touching. He decided not to elaborate on that for his own sake, instead continuing with, “There’s no need to apologize. You’re already letting me stay here.”

Eren sighed and grabbed one of the hands Armin had against his stomach. “I was planning on making you something nice, though.”

“Like what?”

“Omelet. Fancy shit. I dunno.”

“Eren, you don’t even know how to crack an egg properly,” Armin giggled. “Carla banned you from the kitchen at her house because you burnt water.”

“I could’ve learned!” Eren protested. “Like, through the power of love, or something.”

“The power of love?”

Armin saw the tips of Eren’s ears go red. “Ignore that. Fuck, this is so shitty.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Armin told him, reaching up on his tippy toes to kiss the nape of Eren’s neck, another spot that had him basically melting into putty in Armin’s hands whenever he touched it. He felt Eren shudder and clutch his hand tighter. “I’m touched you even thought about making me something, anyways.”

Silence stretched between them for a few moments, and Armin wondered if he’d said something out of line, before Eren muttered, “‘Min?”

“Hm?”

“I’m trying really hard not to kiss you again right now,” he said, his voice strained. “Like, really really hard.”

“If you want to, then do it,” Armin said mildly, though his heart was thundering out of control in his chest. He wants to kiss me. “I won’t stop you.”

“Nice fucking try, I see what you’re doing.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re so scheme-y,” Eren chuckled, turning around and leaning in. Armin met him halfway, his hands wrapping around Eren’s shoulders as Eren’s arms circled snugly around his waist. “Baby, you’ve seriously gotta eat.”

“I can always eat later,” Armin murmured against his lips, brushing them together for a moment, but Eren was drawing away again. “Fine.”

“Trust me, I don’t wanna do this as much as you do, but you need food in your stomach if you wanna be able to take that last dose.” Eren grabbed a bowl and the box of cereal from the cupboard and set them on the counter next to the fridge, pulling that open and taking out a carton of milk. “You still like it a little soggy, right?”

Armin used his arms to lift himself up on the counter, wincing at the coolness of the marble surface seeping through his sweatpants. “Yeah, actually. How’d you know?”

“‘Min, I’ve watched you make your cereal since we were kids. Obviously, I know you like it soggy.”

Armin flushed, warmth tingling throughout his entire body. “My tastes could’ve changed.”

“But they didn’t,” Eren grinned as he started pouring cereal, then milk into the bowl. Once he was finished mixing it, he handed it to Armin along with a spoon, and Armin immediately shoved a few bites into his mouth. “‘Min, slow down a bit, you’re gonna give yourself another stomach ache.”

“I’m hungry,” Armin said once he’d swallowed, which was true. He hadn’t realized how empty his stomach felt until cool milk mixed with flecks hit his tongue. 

“Mhmm. The same one who acted like he was gonna die if I didn’t kiss him and refused to eat anything.”

“I didn’t act like I was gonna die,” Armin sputtered, feeling his cheeks warm. “It just, er, it felt nice.”

“Felt nice, sure,” Eren laughed, leaning forwards and placing his hands on the counter next to Armin’s thighs, their noses almost touching. Armin helplessly swallowed. “Just admit you like kissing me, Armin.”

“I don’t need to add to your already inflated ego.”

“Then I guess you don’t need to kiss me, then.”

“Where’d you get that conclusion from?” Armin asked quickly, watching the grin on Eren’s face grow wider. 

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

“And how are you so sure about that?” 

“‘Cause your cheeks are red.”

Armin turned his head away, embarrassment beginning to trickle into his chest. “My cheeks aren’t red.”

“They’re so red, it’s adorable,” Eren cooed as he smacked a kiss to the corner of Armin’s mouth. “C’mon, ‘Min, you’ve gotta eat, it’s almost twelve.”

Armin playfully swatted his shoulder. “So stop distracting me.”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Uh huh.”

It took Armin only five minutes to finish his food, but once he was done, Eren was pouring water into another glass and handing him the last pill he’d have to take for the day. He’d always hated swallowing things whole like that, and this time was no different, goosebumps climbing up every inch of his skin as soon as the horrible pill had hit his tongue, but he deemed the whole ordeal worth it after Eren’s whispered praises and kisses to every inch of his face. 

“Hey,” Eren said, still pressing a few kisses to the curve of Armin’s cheek. For someone that had been mostly careful over the past three weeks, Armin would’ve never anticipated this sudden shift in Eren’s restraint when it came to their arrangement, but it wasn’t like he was complaining. Quite the opposite, in fact, because he wanted it. He wanted everything Eren would be willing to give him, even if it was just for a few mere seconds. “Do you still want hot chocolate? I didn’t get to make you any yesterday.”

“Of course,” Armin smiled, butterflies fluttering through his stomach at the fact that he even remembered. He patted Eren’s cheek. “But please don’t burn any liquid this time.”

“Okay, that was one time.”

“Two times, actually.”

“When I was, like, two years old.”

“ You mean when you were nine.”

“Just sit there and look pretty,” Eren grumbled as he rummaged through another cabinet, and color began to creep into Armin’s face. “I swear if the cocoa’s out I’m actually gonna jump off a building.”

“How many times have I told you to stop saying things like that?”

“Aha!” Eren cheered, ignoring Armin’s comment. He pulled out the box and a bag of chocolate chips and set them on the counter, rushing to grab the milk from the fridge again. “There’s only a bit left, I think, but it should be enough for you.”

Armin frowned. “What about you?”

“I’m not the one who had a fever last night, ‘Min.”

“It’s cold, though.” 

Eren pecked his lips, and Armin had to strain himself not to give in to the touch and lose himself in it. “You’re warm enough for me. Promise.”

“So corny,” Armin said breathlessly. “Seriously, what’s been up with you and these— like, sayings, lately?”

“I’m just speaking from the heart,” Eren grinned, grabbing a saucepan from one of the drawers underneath them and placing it on the stove, starting a low heat underneath. “Nothing corny about that.”

“Everything you just said is still corny.” Armin sighed and squeezed Eren’s arm, careful not to move him too harshly around the fire. “But I like it.”

“You like it?”

“Don’t make me say it again, please.”

“Mhmm. I’ll keep that in mind,” Eren murmured, pouring the milk into the saucepan and gently stirring it with a whisk. “How warm do you want it?”

“As warm as it can get without burning my mouth.”

“You’re really that cold?” Eren asked with a frown, using his free hand to brush some of the hair out of Armin’s face. “You feel fine, though, so maybe it’s just the after effects, or something.”

“After effects?”

Eren began whisking in the cocoa powder and sugar. “Sometimes, after fevers, you get really cold and tired ‘cause your body’s trying to get you back to your normal temperature. It usually only lasts for a day, though.”

Armin grinned. “You sure you’re not a pre-med student, Eren?”

“Alright, listen, when your dad’s a doctor—”

“Mhm.”

“—You just know stuff. I swear, every time I got sick he’d start spewing all these facts to the point where I’d basically memorized them all.”

“I’ve gone to your house more times than I’ve been in my own, and even I don’t remember half the shit he said. It’s okay to admit you were a bit interested.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, ‘Min,” Eren muttered, his cheeks and the tips of his ears going bright red. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Armin leaned over and kissed his clothed shoulder, because it was the nearest place he could reach without falling off the counter. “You’re blushing.”

“Or you’re seeing things.” Eren poured the chocolate chips into the saucepan, and Armin could already feel his mouth start to water. As much as he hated to admit it, he really did have a horrible sweet tooth. “After effects, remember?” 

“You never said hallucinations were a part of the after effects.”

“They are now.”

“Who said?”

“Me. ‘Cause I’m always right.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, my love.”

Eren’s cheeks darkened even more, if that was possible. “Please don’t do this to me. I’m begging you.”

“I’m just sitting here,” Armin laughed. 

Eren grabbed a red and white mug from one of the cabinets, and Armin realized with a shot of pain through the heart that it was one of the many matching ones they’d bought for each other as Christmas gifts during their senior year, the other half sitting in a box full of many others in the back of his closet back home that he’d never had the courage to open.

“Exactly.” 

“Okay, but how is me sitting here doing anything remotely bad to you?”

“I never said it was bad,” Eren replied quickly, lifting the saucepan from the stove and pouring the hot chocolate into the mug. “Here you go. Be careful, it’s really hot.”

Armin carefully cupped the mug, his fingers tingling at the heat coming from the glass. “Thank you, Eren. It looks so good I might cry.”

Eren kissed his cheek and nudged the side of his head with his nose. “Wait a bit before you take a sip. I don’t want it burning your tongue.”

“It’s so chocolatey,” Armin whispered, blowing at the steam and slightly shaking the mug to watch the liquid swirl around. “Putting in the chips was genius.”

“That’s what my mom did when we were kids,” Eren told him. “She only gave me the recipe after I swore up and down I wouldn’t tell anyone, so you better not share the secret.”

Armin snorted. “I won't, I promise.” He lifted the mug to his lips and took a small sip, wincing a bit at the slight burn, but it felt good in contrast to all the shivers still trembling through his body. “Holy shit, that’s good.”

“Take it easy,” Eren chuckled as Armin gulped down more sips. “‘Min, oh my God, slow down.”

“It’s like magic,” Armin breathed when he forced himself to stop, looking down at the mug and seeing that he’d already drunk half of it. “I already feel warmer.”

“Well, in that case, keep drinking,” Eren sighed, and Armin happily complied. “I’ll tell my mom you still like this stuff. She’ll be so happy.”

Armin took another break to wipe his mouth, then started gulping down the hot chocolate again. It honestly wasn’t that hot, even though it prickled his tongue and throat each time he swallowed, but maybe that was just because of how freezing the apartment still was. When he was finished, which didn’t take much longer, he handed the mug back to Eren, who looked both impressed and utterly terrified.

“Jesus, Armin, how the hell did you finish that in, like, thirty seconds?”

“Because it’s still fucking cold,” he muttered, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Eren furrowed his brows, placed the mug in the sink, and reached over to cup Armin’s face.

“D’you want me to hold you like I did last night? I think the body heat would help.”

Armin cleared his throat, his heart speeding up just a tad. “Er, yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

That’s how they found themselves back on Eren’s couch not long after, Armin splayed on top of him and resting his head in the crook of his neck, feeling his eyes slowly start to droop, as Eren wrapped one arm around Armin’s torso and used the other to grab the TV remote and switch it on.

Armin had no idea what Eren picked to watch, and, frankly, he wasn’t paying attention; he was much too preoccupied with pressing as close to him as humanly possible, basking in the heat radiating from his skin and sighing in content when Eren gently rubbed his hand up and down his back, more kisses being prepped to his hair and forehead. 

“You’re really making a habit of falling asleep on me, huh?” Eren teased.

“You’re warm,” Armin mumbled, noticing the slight stutter in Eren’s breathing. “You should sleep, too. I know you didn’t get any last night, either.”

“Nah, you know me. I can’t physically sleep unless it’s dark outside.”

“You can just close the blinds,” Armin pointed out.

Eren hummed. “But that means I have to move.”

“Who’s the needy one now?”

“Still you.”

“I can do it,” Armin started, but Eren simply tightened his hold when he tried to get up. 

“Sleep, ‘Min.”

Armin purposefully brushed his lips against Eren’s neck. “Or … we could do other stuff. Just a thought.”

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad, you could’ve just said so,” Eren said, and Armin could practically hear the smirk in his voice. He raised his head with a glare and found that he was right.

“It’s for practice.”

“Mhmm. For practice. And it feels nice, according to you.”

“Yeah. Kissing is supposed to feel nice.”

“Not unless you’re enjoying it.”

“If you don’t want to—”

Eren was crashing their lips together before Armin could finish, Armin giggling into Eren’s mouth and shifting himself a bit upwards so that his back didn’t feel like it would break in half at the angle. If there was one thing Armin loved about Eren, well, the skill of his lips would definitely be high on his list; most times, he kissed like they were made to be connected, like all he was made for was weaving his fingers through Armin’s hair and tugging at every chance he got. And then there were times like these, where he was careful, gentle, handling Armin like he was a priceless piece of art and not just him. It made Armin want to cry, for some reason, but it also made him want to hold onto Eren until they were fused together for eternity.

He stilled, realizing what he’d just thought, wanted, and Eren nudged his nose against his cheek. “‘Min? You okay?”

“Fine,” Armin said hoarsely, his chest beginning to hurt in the way that he knew there was going to be a lot of overthinking about this later. “I’m fine, really.”

“Do you wanna stop?” Eren asked in concern, starting to pull away immediately, but Armin quickly cupped his face and pecked his nose.

“No, never. Silly question.”

“Oh,” Eren squeaked, but before he could lean in again, his phone suddenly buzzed on the coffee table. He let out a few muffled curses, slightly shifting so that he could grab it without fully changing their position on the couch. When he opened the notification, he snorted, his breath tickling the tip of Armin’s nose. “Oh my God.” 

Armin gave him a questioning look. “What?”

“Look at this,” Eren said gleefully, turning his phone so that Armin could see. On the screen was a picture of none other than Ymir, drooling and stretched out across Sasha’s couch with Historia curled into her side, both of them still in their costumes from the night before. Followed by that was a selfie of Sasha with Mikasa hugging her shoulders and smiling tiredly behind her, looking relatively okay even after all those drinks she must’ve had the night before. Sasha, on the other hand, looked like she was holding barely contained laugher, her cheeks puffed up like a rabid chipmunk. Attached to both photos was a message underneath.

Sashooster 😈💯🥶(Just now, 12:54 p.m.)

for your entertainment because ik u need blackmail on ymir

DON’T FUCKING TELL HER I SENT U THIS

also how’s his highness armeen we’ve all been a bit worried 😕

“What the hell did you name her?” Armin giggled. “Good God.”

“This is absolutely fucking perfect,” Eren hissed. “She looks so stupid, ‘Min. Her face. Don’t tell me you can’t see the vision. ”

“I can see that she’s sleeping. On my sister,” Armin added, scrunching his nose. “Ew.”

“Ew is right. It’s fucking disgusting, holy shit.” Eren furiously started typing on his phone. “‘Min, we’ve gotta send them a selfie back.”

“What if she shows them, too?” Armin asked with a grin. “It could all be part of a bigger scheme. Maybe she wants the blackmail for herself.”

“I don’t think Sash is capable of being that much of a mastermind. You, on the other hand—”

Armin shut him up with a peck to the corner of his mouth, effectively making his face bloom crimson red. “C’mon, let’s take it.”

“Okay,” Eren said, his voice a little high-pitched. He held his phone above them at a fairly high angle, making Armin have to tilt his head a bit, but it worked nonetheless. After about ten pictures, he brought the phone back down and started to scroll through them. “You pick which one you want. I like them all.”

“Hmmm.” Armin narrowed his eyes, letting Eren mindlessly swipe until he landed on a photo that made his heart swoop. Both of them were grinning throughout every picture, but in this one, the camera had caught them glancing at each other simultaneously, their eyes crinkled at the corners, looking so genuine and enveloped in the other that, if Armin were anyone else, he’d think that they were an actual couple. That none of what they were doing was fake, or for practice. “This one’s my favorite.”

“Me, too,” Eren said quietly after a moment, pressing a kiss to Armin’s jaw and making him swallow. “It’s really, uh, convincing.”

“Mhm,” Armin said lightly, watching as Eren quickly opened Sasha’s chat and sent the picture as well as a message.

Eren

Sent an image

his highness is doing well and says hi 😛

Sashooster 😈💯🥶

you guys are so fucking GROSS i’m gonna puke

mika agrees with me

btw she says she’s gonna pop by later with historia (if she’s awake) just to check on him

Eren

sounds good

thx for the blackmail

Sashooster 😈💯🥶

yeah yeah u owe me jeager

Armin let his head fall back against the crook of Eren’s neck, and Eren set his phone back on the coffee table not too long after. “Ymir really is gonna kill you if she finds out you have that.”

“Not until I get her first,” Eren grumbled. He then pecked Armin’s forehead. “Go to sleep, love, I know you’re tired. I’ll wake you up in a few hours, if you want.”

“Yeah, please,” Armin muttered. He gave one last kiss to the column of Eren’s neck. “Just a few hours.”

“You’ll feel way better afterwards,” Eren reassured him as he began to scratch his head. Armin squeezed his eyes shut and let the exhaustion take over his body as he finally allowed himself a little bit of relief.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, drifting in and out of deep sleep, but the ghost of a familiar hand grazing his cheek pulled him out of his slumber. He blinked, and through the stickiness now coating his eyelids, could make out a pair of dark, troubled eyes looming over him and blonde hair in the background. “Miks?”

“Hi, ‘Min,” she whispered, placing a soft kiss on his temple and moving her hand to his hair, gently carding through it. “You’re okay?”

“Mmm,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into the spot between Eren’s shirt and the couch. He heard Eren chuckle, his voice vibrating against Armin’s ear.

“You’ve gotta get up now,” he said. “I swear I’d let you sleep, but it’s already three.”

“What?” Armin shot up from Eren’s chest instantly, almost knocking his jaw in the process. That’s when he noticed Historia standing behind Mikasa with a small smirk on her face and dark circles under her eyes. She’d seemingly changed out of her costume and into a pink hoodie so large it reached all the way to her knees. “You’re joking. Please say you’re joking.”

Eren gave him a sympathetic look. “Listen, I tried waking you up a million times, but you wouldn’t budge.”

“You should’ve shook me, or something.”

“I did,” Historia cut in. “And you fucking smacked me.”

“How the hell would I smack you if I was asleep?”

“Okay, a smack is a bit of a stretch,” Eren started, and Historia shot him a glare. “You’re just mad ‘cause you know it’s true.”

“Shut up, Jeager, please. I’m too tired for your bullshit right now.”

“For the love,” Armin groaned, rubbing his eyes with his hands. Mikasa gently patted his shoulder.

“Guys, please, he just woke up. Give him a minute.”

“Thanks, Miks,” Armin muttered. Eren sat up and kissed his cheek with a quiet sorry against his skin.

Historia furrowed her brows. “You’re still not sick or anything, right?”

“Nope. My fever stopped a while ago,” Armin said. “I think I was just so tired that I, like, completely crashed.”

“And how bad was it?”

Eren shrugged. “It was like food poisoning, in a way. As soon as he puked all the water out he was fine.”

“Thanks for the mental image,” Historia said sarcastically. Eren stuck his tongue out at her. “Connie told me to tell you to check your messages when you get the chance, by the way. He’s really sorry. Him and Jean are trying to figure out who drugged that water bottle.”

Armin gave a small smile. “It’s not his fault. Besides, I think it was contaminated from the start, anyway. The cap was sealed shut when we found it.”

“That’s still fucking bad, Armin,” Historia sighed. She ruffled his hair, harsh but affectionate, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him in for a tight hug, even if the angle was a bit awkward. “I’m just glad you didn’t die. Seriously, you scared the shit out of me yesterday.”

“Thanks, Tori,” he chuckled, patting her back. “Love you too.”

“Idiot,” she grumbled, giving him one last squeeze before she stepped back. “I hope you learned your lesson. So fucking stupid.”

“Have you eaten?” Mikasa asked suspiciously, making her way to the kitchen and swinging open the fridge. Armin and Eren shared a nervous look. “I don’t see anything here.”

“I had cereal,” Armin said, and Mikasa turned around with furrowed brows.

“That’s all you ate?”

“I was gonna order something, but again, he wouldn’t get up,” Eren cut in. “I can get it now.”

“It’s fine,” Armin tried. “Really, it’s fine, I’ll just have something when I go home.”

“But it’s been hours, love.”

“Okay, but why don’t you have anything in your fridge?” Mikasa sighed. “I thought Carla was sending you off with a bunch of stuff after all your visits.”

“I forgot to take it last time,” he murmured. 

“Which was when?”

“Two days ago, I think.”

“So the day you guys babysat Freya?” Historia asked. Eren nodded. “Didn’t you run all the way to my house? No shit you forgot.”

Mikasa blinked. “He ran to your house?”

“For Armin, yes, because he’s pathetic.”

“I don’t see Ymir doing that shit for you,” Eren retorted.

Historia glared. “Watch it, Jeager.”

“Wait a sec, did you leave Freya alone?” Armin gasped, remembering that Historia had crashed at Sasha’s and not gone back to her place. “Historia.”

“Chill, she’s with Pa and Dad. I asked them to pick her up after we left.”

“Pa agreed to take her?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Look,” Historia said smugly, sitting next to him on the couch and pulling up a picture on her phone. Eren kissed Armin’s head before getting up and joining Mikasa in the kitchen, who looked like she was on the verge of hitting him with a lecture about his eating habits. “Dad sent this to me an hour ago.”

“Oh my God,” Armin whispered, giggles leaving his mouth immediately. Levi was laying upright on the couch, his eyes closed and arms crossed, while Freya was curled up in his lap, sleeping away to her heart’s content. A bit of Erwin’s finger was covering the bottom half of the camera, which, if Armin was going to be honest, wasn’t surprising in the slightest. He was just proud of the fact that his father had even managed to take a picture at all. “He’s taking a nap?”

“I almost didn’t believe it. She got him, too,” Historia smirked. “Little shit.”

“Don’t call my niece a little shit.”

“Your niece?”

“I mean, technically speaking—”

Historia cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Just— stop talking.”

“I hate you.”

“Aw, I love you too,” Historia cooed, flicking his head and making him yelp. 

“Christ,” Armin muttered. “By the way, what time are you guys going?”

“We were gonna offer to drop you back home, if you want,” Historia said. “Unless you plan on staying another night. Which is gross, but I won’t judge.”

“Historia,” Armin sighed. “I wasn’t gonna stay that long. He’s already done enough by letting me sleep here in the first place.”

Historia raised a brow. “He’s your boyfriend, though. Why would it be a big deal?”

Fuck. Armin cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I just meant, er, it hasn’t even been a month since we got back together. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to move too fast, or something.”

“You being sick isn’t moving too fast, Armin,” she said, shaking her head. “Anyways. You tell us when you want to leave, and we’ll go. But if you take too long I’m leaving you here.”

“Thanks, Tori,” Armin said satirically. She blew him a kiss.

“Leaving him where?” Eren called. 

“None of your business,” Historia retorted.

“They’re going to drop me back home,” Armin told him, and his brows pulled together.

“When?”

“Whenever they leave.”

“Which is soon,” Historia cut in. “So.”

“How soon is soon?”

“We don’t know. Just soon,” Mikasa said.

Armin stood, made his way to Eren, wrapped his arms around his waist, and rested his head against his chest. Eren pulled him close by the shoulders, pressing a few kisses to the top of his head, and Armin heard Historia gag behind them. “Listen, I’ve already been here long enough. You probably have a lot of shit to do, anyways.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you to go,” Eren murmured. “I like having you around.”

Armin squeezed his eyes shut, his heart dropping whilst somehow also beating so fast he was surprised he didn’t go into some sort of cardiac arrest. “I’d like to stay, I really would, but I know my parents are getting worried, even if they won’t tell me.”

“I’m guessing you want to go now, then?” Mikasa asked. Armin begrudgingly pulled away from Eren and shot her a smile, though it was tight.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Alright, then.” She strided over to Historia and pulled her up from the couch by the hand. “We’ll be waiting downstairs in the car, okay?”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Armin told her.

“Bye, Eren,” Mikasa called. Historia waved with a smirk, and they were out the door in a few more moments. Eren began carding a hand through Armin’s hair, and he leaned into the touch, despite every waking thought in his mind telling him to stop. Pull away. 

You know what’s already happened.

“I’ll miss you,” Eren whispered, and Armin gulped, not daring to meet his eyes. 

“Me, too. Seriously, Eren, thank you. For all of it.”

“Anything,” he said quietly. 

Armin lightly kissed his jaw, then his cheek. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Well, yeah. Your birthday’s in, like, two days.”

Armin blinked. Oh, yeah. Of course he’d be the one to forget something like that. He’d been so caught up in all… this, that he hadn’t had enough time to think about what date it was. “Shit, yeah, you’re right.”

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Eren chuckled, and Armin flushed.

“Listen, I wasn’t paying attention—”

“To your own birthday?”

Armin swatted his shoulder. “It’s not that big of a deal, really. It’s just a day.”

“I’m gonna pretend like I didn’t just hear that,” Eren grumbled. “Do you want me to walk you out?”

Armin shook his head. “It’s okay, Eren. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Please.” Eren gave one last kiss to his nose. “Bye, ‘Min.”

“Bye,” Armin breathed, squeezing Eren’s hand and letting go one moment later. He practically sprinted to the door, which would’ve been embarrassing if not for how tight his throat suddenly felt, or how badly his chest was hurting, and not in a good way. He leaned against the door as soon as it shut and forced himself to take deep breaths. God, he wanted to scream, or cry, or something. How pathetic could he possibly get, letting some stupid head-kiss and some stupid laugh turn him into such an idiot—

“Oh man,” Historia said out of nowhere, making Armin nearly piss his pants right then and there. Absolutely mortified that she was the one who caught him looking like this, he covered his mouth with his hand, but he doubted that it did him any good. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I figured I’d wait for you.” She eyed him up and down with a coy smile. “You really are down bad, huh? Your face. ”

“Dammit,” Armin whispered, because he was. He was so, so insanely fucked. As in, never coming back from this kind of fucked. As in, I still have some sort of messed up feelings for Eren after a year kind of fucked.

“Don’t let Eren catch you looking like this,” she told him, sympathetically patting his shoulder before grabbing his hand and swiftly tugging him down the hallway. “Or he’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Shit.

Chapter Text

In about one hour, four minutes, and thirty-one seconds, the date would change from November second to third, and Armin was officially going to turn twenty years old. But there was one teeny, tiny, insufferable little detail that made him wish he wasn’t: he couldn’t fucking sleep, and he thought he was going to die.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been trying for the past five hours. He had, he really, really had, yet all his efforts had been in vain as soon as his brain had suddenly made the decision to either, a.) jolt his arm or his leg out of nowhere, b.) open his eyes as soon as even a speck of unconsciousness began to flood his body, or, arguably the worst, c.) remind him about his fake-ex-boyfriend and the horrible, paralyzing feelings he still managed to harbor after one whole fucking year of being broken up. So, yeah. Sleeping definitely wasn’t an option. At this point, he was just deluding himself into thinking that he could actually manage it, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying one more time. At least one more time.

He screamed into his pillow and couldn’t care less if it was muffled or not, because his eyes were beginning to ache, and so was his head. If there was any physical definition of agony, well, the last two days would definitely be the perfect contender. Aside from a few texts, he hadn’t spoken to Eren at all, not once. He knew it was shitty of him, but he genuinely didn’t know what in the ever-loving fuck to do with himself. On one hand, he desperately wanted to end this stupid, God-awful arrangement that he should’ve never fucking agreed to in the first place before things got too far and he lost himself completely, but, on the other hand, that small, fucked up little part of him wanted to keep it up, even if all of it was fake, because it was still Eren. And Armin surely couldn’t tell him how he felt, because they were broken up and Eren couldn’t possibly have any feelings for him anymore. The only reason he’d suggested they do this in the first place was out of convenience, wasn’t it? All the kisses, the touches, were just practice, and it wasn’t his fault that Armin’s stupid ass had blurred the lines and let himself fall right back to square one.

God, why him, why him? Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the one subjected to Eren’s face, and his hair, and his mouth— God, his mouth— and his voice and his warmth and all the fucking things that made Armin’s head spin each time they were so much as ten feet within one another? Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“Fuck,” Armin whispered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. If he kept tossing and turning by himself any longer, he was positive he was going to go insane. Fuck sleeping, he didn’t need it, he could do fine without it, despite the lecture Levi would probably give him if he said anything of the sort. 

Carefully, he began to tread against the wooden floor to his bedroom door and slowly turned the knob, cringing when the hinges loudly screeched. He purposefully tiptoed over the creaky floorboard right in front of the doorway and felt for the banister in the darkness, gripping onto it tightly when he found it and creeping slowly down the stairs. Moonlight was the only form of brightness shining through the sliding door and windows, illuminating the  living room in milky-white, but Armin was thankful for it nonetheless. He almost tripped and fell on his way to the kitchen, but after many muffled curses in French and winces at his bruising ankle, he finally made it, immediately opening the fridge and scanning through its contents.

“What the fuck are you doing up?”

Armin screamed and threw the nearest thing he could reach in the direction of the sound, which was an orange. Historia yelped and swerved out of the way just before getting hit, the orange rolling into the living room and stopping at the bottom of the coffee table. She shot him a scowl. “Armin, what the fuck?”

“Holy shit,” Armin hissed, placing a hand over his heart and kneeling over. He’d completely forgotten she was staying over— it had become sort of a tradition ever since they’d moved out to sleep at their parents’ house the night before their birthday, except this year, she was the only one who actually had a girlfriend and house to leave . Armin was living here now. “What is wrong with you? You can’t just sneak up on me like that in the middle of the night!”

“So your first instinct was to throw something at me?”

“Obviously?”

“I swear if you’ve woken up Pa and Dad, I’m actually gonna kill you,” she grumbled, gently closing the kitchen door and joining him at the fridge. He glared at her, but she pushed him out of the way in favor of poking around the fridge herself. “Again, why are you up?”

He pursed his lips and looked away. “I couldn’t sleep. And I was hungry.”

“You should’ve just gotten me,” Historia sighed. She pulled out another orange and spun it between her forefinger and thumb. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Why?” Armin frowned. “You okay?”

She gave a tired smile. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just not used to sleeping alone in bed.”

“Ah.” He patted her shoulder, and she placed the orange back in its original spot. “It’s fine. Ymir will be here in the morning.”

“With the others and their surprise plans,” she snorted. “I wonder what they’ve thought up this year. She refused to tell me anything.”

“It’s a surprise for a reason, Tori.”

“No shit, Armin.” She clicked her tongue and stood. “Since both of us can’t sleep… I have an idea.”

“And I’m already scared.”

“It’s not even bad.” Her eyes darted to the pantry on the other side of the room. “We still have brown sugar, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

She grinned. “Let’s make cookies.”

“Historia, it’s almost twelve. And Pa will smell the oven as soon as we turn it on.”

“It’s our birthday,” she shrugged, striding over to the pantry and swinging it open. “We can do whatever we want.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, but okay.”

“Pass me the butter,” she said. Armin sighed in defeat.

Much to his relief, the cookie-making-process wasn’t that much of a messy affair. Sure, Historia had gotten flour all over the counter, and Armin had almost given himself a third-degree burn while trying to fit the baking sheet into the oven, but all-in-all, he considered it a win. Historia was now sitting on the kitchen island, eating the remnants of cookie dough in the bowl, and Armin was happy to let her do so. He was not risking another stomach infection, thank you very much.

“Five minutes, now,” she said, pointing to her watch. 

“For the cookies?”

“Nope, ‘till it’s November third. The cookies are done in two.” She took one last bite from the bowl and set it beside her. “Any regrets you wanna air out from now? One last hurrah?”

Armin laughed. “Tori, it’s our birthday. We’re not dying.”

“We could. You never know.”

“I think the sugar is getting to your brain.”

She flipped him off. “Fuck you. You know, you’ve been really sassy the past few days. I should smack you, or something.”

“Sassy?”

“Like how you are when you’re stressed. When we had our finals in senior year, there was this one time where I asked you for a pencil and you snapped at me for not having one, threw a sharpener at me, and then started sobbing uncontrollably.”

Armin flushed. “I think that’s a bit of an over-exaggeration, Tori.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said bluntly. He blinked. “Because I know something’s wrong.”

“You know I’m always nervous on birthdays,” he said lightly, turning away and pretending to check on the cookies in the oven. 

“Now you’re just pulling shit out of your ass.” He heard her sigh. “I just don’t want you moping around tomorrow, Armin. You’re supposed to have fun. Maybe if you just get it off your chest—”

“I’d rather not, okay?” he said harshly. Then he slumped his shoulders and gave her an apologetic look, guilt overtaking him immediately for snapping at her like that. “Sorry. I know you’re just trying to help. But seriously, leave it. It’s not even anything that bad.”

She frowned. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“I’m just saying, if it’s to the point where it’s keeping you up at night…”

“Tori.”

“Okay, okay.” She held her hands up. “I won’t say anything else unless you come to me. Which you should. But I’m leaving it now.”

Armin shook his head with a chuckle. “I promise I’ll go to you if I need anything, if it really makes you feel better.”

“I swear to God,” she muttered, taking another look at her watch. “The cookies should be done by now, I think.”

“They actually look pretty well done,” Armin whispered as he began opening the oven, but the thump of feet against the marble floor and a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.

“Maybe I should take it out this time,” Historia said in amusement. “Your hand is still red from before.”

“What in the— fine,” he grumbled, standing and letting her take the lead. He watched her put on the oven mittens and slowly take out the cookies. “Oh, God, it already smells.”

“Yeah, it smells like heaven,” she grinned, setting the tray full of cookies onto the counter and closing the oven. “Man, we should’ve opened up a bakery, or something. Like one of those family businesses that last a billion generations.”

“Do they really look that good?”

“Uh, yeah?” She beckoned him over, and the sweet smell of chocolate tingled his nose. “You see what I mean? We could make so much fucking money off of this shit, I’m telling you.”

“Holy shit, you’re right,” he marveled. The chocolate in each one was so melted it was oozing through the dough, which already looked like it was going to crumble in that satisfying, slow way when they picked one of them up. “Dammit, why’d we only make, like, five?”

“Armin, you literally had a fever and a stomach infection, like, two days ago. I don’t need Eren trying to kill me for getting you sick again.”

He tried not to wince at Eren’s name. Get your shit together, idiot. He’s just a boy. “I think he’d be happy if I had most of these, actually.”

Historia gave him a puzzled look for a moment, the kind where he felt like she was picking his mind apart piece by piece, but all she said was, “You do know your bullshit won’t work on me, right?”

“What bullshit? I didn’t even do anything.”

“Mhmmmm.” She checked her watch again. “Oh, shit. Twenty seconds.”

Armin grabbed one of the cookies and winced at the slight heat against his fingertips, but it wasn’t hot enough that he would burn himself. He quickly broke it in half and gave a piece to Historia. “I can’t believe our last fucking meal as teenagers is going to be a cookie.”

“Ten seconds.” She held up her half of the cookie, and Armin clinked their halves together. “Here goes nothing, I guess.”

“Cheers,” Armin said weakly. Historia started counting down from five, and as soon as she hit one, they both took a bite, simultaneous giggles leaving their mouths. She pulled him in for a hug, and he gently rocked them back and forth.

“Happy birthday, idiot,” she whispered. He snorted and kissed the side of her head.

“Happy birthday, Tori.” 

“Do you feel weird?”

He shrugged, and they broke away a moment later. “Kind of. I don’t think it's really hit me yet.”

“Me neither.” She shoved the last of her cookie half into her mouth and eyed the rest on the baking tray. “I’m having the one on the edge.”

“Hey— who said you get to pick?”

“Me. ‘Cause it’s my birthday.”

“It’s my birthday, too, asshole.”

Five minutes and many hushed arguments, truces, and crumb-stained shirts later, they were tip-toeing back up the stairs as quietly as possible, using each other’s arms as a guide to avoid the particularly squeaky steps. As soon as Armin felt the top of the banister, he gently pulled Historia up, tiredness overtaking him in seconds and making his limbs feel like they weighed a hundred more pounds. “You okay?”

“I think it’s really hitting me now,” she said, her voice a little stiff.

“The cookies, or the fact that we’re twenty?”

“God, don’t remind me, please,” she groaned. He lightly shushed her, nervously watching their parents’ door in case it suddenly opened, but, thankfully, it stayed tightly shut. “We’re old.”

“Oh my God, Tori, we’re not old.”

“We’re basically hags.”

“Tori, I think twenty is fairly young.”

“Still,” she mumbled. 

Even though Armin knew she would never admit it in a million years, he could hear the slight quiver in her voice, could practically see the sad little frown on her face he’d been on the receiving end of for as long as he could remember. He didn’t really expect her to get this emotional over their birthday, of all things— he was usually the one crying and having her smack him back to reality. But he didn’t mind coddling her for a bit, even if she’d pretend it ever happened in the morning. They were born on the same day, yes, but he was still three minutes older and therefore the oldest, as much as she liked to deny it. 

“Do you want to sleep next to me?” Armin asked softly. “I don’t mind.”

He heard her sigh. “Fine.”

“You don’t have to, you know.”

“I said fine.”

His room was even darker than the hall, but he managed to find the bed after sticking his foot out and hitting it against the bottom of the headboard. He tucked her in first, then slid into the covers beside her, their backs pressing together and their legs curled to their chests. It reminded him of when they were kids, when she used to silently sneak into his room with teary-eyes and beg him to stay with her after a nightmare. When she still couldn’t pronounce the “r” in his name, and so whenever she called out to him, it would sound like “A’min.” Maybe all those memories had come to her in flashes, too, which was probably why she was suddenly so gloomy about turning one year older. One year pulling them farther away from the comforting halo of their childhood and into the gray, hollow life of being adults.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, nudging her foot. She nudged him back, though the force of it was much harder than his had been.

“‘Night,” she murmured. Armin shut his eyes, and found that sleep came to him a lot easier this time.

𑁤

“I’m going to cry. Look at them.”

Armin heard Levi exhale through his nose. “I kind of feel bad about waking them up now.”

“Maybe we should just leave them be. They deserve to sleep in a bit.”

“Yeah, but the other brats are waiting downstairs. Mikasa’s already nagged me enough.”

Armin’s eyes fluttered open, and even though his vision was out of focus, Levi and Erwin’s amused faces looming over him were clear enough to make out. He felt a hand ruffle his hair.

“Happy birthday, kid.”

“Thanks, Pa,” Armin croaked. Historia was still snoring beside him, something that he would make fun of later, but he was much more concerned with sitting up and rubbing his eyes, at the moment. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine-thirty,” Erwin said sheepishly. Armin suppressed a groan.

“Why so early?”

“You’ll see,” Levi grumbled, leaning over Armin and tapping Historia’s shoulder. “Historia.”

“Mhgg,” she murmured, shrugging Levi’s hand off. “Go ‘way.”

“Happy birthday,” Erwin sang, joining Levi and poking her cheek. Armin giggled. “C’mon, darling, I know it’s early, but you’ll be happy, I promise.”

She groaned and buried her head in her pillow. “Christ.” 

“Don’t ‘Christ’ me,” Erwin tutted. He and Levi shared a look. “What if I told you Ymir was waiting for you downstairs?”

Historia bolted up immediately, almost knocking their faces in the process, and Armin grinned at the slight pink now dusting her cheeks. “You’re lying.”

“Why would we lie?” Levi sighed. “Her and those other little shits are probably running up here as we speak.”

“What do you mean, ‘other little shits?’” Armin asked, raising a brow.

“Well, if you got up and checked like we said—”

Armin yelped as Historia fully stood on the bed, hopped over his legs, and landed on the other side, climbing down to the ground with Erwin’s help a moment later. “Get your ass up, Armin.”

“There’s actually no way you had the nerve to—” She was running out the door before he could finish. “Historia.”

Levi shook his head with a small, rare smile. “What was she even doing in here?”

“Er,” Armin coughed, not quite wanting them to know about their cookie-filled adventures from the night before. Then he smiled smugly as an idea came to mind. “She had a nightmare.”

Erwin’s brows rose. “A nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Armin said with fake concern, smoothing his hair away from his face, getting off the bed, and stretching his arms. “It was so bad I was considering getting you guys.”

“I didn’t know she still had those,” Erwin murmured, opening the door and letting Levi and Armin step through it first. 

Armin sighed. “I know. Poor thing.”

As he got closer to the banister, the sounds of talking in the living room became louder by the second. By the time he was halfway down the stairs, the noises suddenly stopped. He gave his parents a questioning look, but all Levi did was beckon him forwards, Erwin gently pushing his back as he made his way down the rest of the wooden steps. 

“I really don’t get why you guys are being so secretive,” Armin started, his foot being met with the carpet draped on the floor of the living room. “This is all very—”

“Surprise!” 

Armin almost stumbled back, but Erwin held him up with his hand and a small chuckle. There, in his living room, were all his friends in the flesh; Mikasa was grinning and had her phone out recording him, and Eren was holding up a huge paper that said, “Happy birthday Armin and Historia!” with about a million hearts and stars and God knew what else drawn around the letters. Historia was clinging to Ymir’s side, as expected, and she shot him a smirk, acting like she probably wasn’t scared shitless the second she was met with all their screams a minute prior. Armin blinked, still not quite processing what just happened, before Mikasa tackled him in a hug, Eren shoving the paper into a gawking Jean’s hands and joining a moment later.

“Happy birthday, ‘Min,” she said, smacking kisses to his cheek and the side of his head. Eren just held him tighter, because he couldn’t exactly do the same in front of Armin’s parents, but his arms were tense in the way that Armin knew he was giving it his all to hold back. That sent a million butterflies flying around the pit of his stomach, but he willed them away with the desperate mantra he’d been telling himself as soon as he’d come to his little realization two days ago: It’s fake. This is all fake.

All of this is fake.

“What are you guys doing here?” he laughed, hoping his voice didn’t sound too squeaky. Eren grinned, his eyes never leaving Armin’s face, but Armin couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze, the sick, horrible feeling of disgust in himself settling in his chest, and fear that Eren knew, that he could somehow tell that the touching and the looks weren’t just practice for him anymore.

“It was my idea—”

“It was our idea,” Ymir cut in, and Eren stuck his tongue out at her.

“You didn’t come up with the road trip.”

“Yeah, but who suggested we come here first?”

“Who fucking cares?” Connie groaned. Then he gulped and gave Levi and Erwin an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“Uh huh,” Levi said. Connie looked like he was going to piss himself, bless him, and Armin would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so busy avoiding Eren’s looks and his face and his voice and— fuck .

“The fact you guys even did something is enough,” Armin smiled tightly, pushing his way out of Mikasa and Eren’s hold and striding over to Connie instead, letting him, Sasha, Marco, Reiner, and Bertholdt give him a group hug of their own. Hitch pinched his cheeks when he pulled away, and Annie gave his shoulder a pat with a small smile. “What’s this about a road trip, now?”

“Thanks for ruining the surprise, Eren,” Jean said sarcastically. Armin rolled his eyes and went over to give Jean a hug, who shook his head and ruffled Armin’s hair.

“I didn’t ruin anything,” Eren said, though his tone was a lot more icy than usual. 

“I wanna know about the road trip,” Historia piped up. Erwin gestured to Ymir.

“Well? I don't even know where you’re taking them.”

Ymir glanced at Historia, who looked at her with sparkly eyes, and she swallowed. “Uh, the beach.”

Armin perked up immediately. “You’re joking.”

“You can thank loverboy over there,” Ymir said, nodding to Eren, who frowned. Levi raised a brow, and Armin tried to act as normal as possible, his eyes darting in any direction but Eren’s.

He doubted it was working.

“The hell do you mean by loverboy?”

“You know damn well what I mean.”

“Ymir?” Historia asked sweetly, reaching to her tippy toes and tucking a strand of brown hair behind the other’s ear. “You know I love you to death, but please, if both of you start another argument, my ears might actually start bleeding.”

“Sorry, baby,” Ymir said quietly, and Historia kissed the corner of her mouth. Eren looked like he was going to say something else that set Ymir off, but a withering look from Mikasa told him to shut his mouth.

“On that note,” Erwin sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You guys can start getting ready to head out, if you want. We won’t keep you here long.”

“Both of you can come with us. Offer’s still out,” Eren told him, but all he did was smile and shake his head.

“You kids have fun. Just don’t do anything reckless.”

“Or stupid,” Levi said. Historia snorted.

“That’s kind of impossible, Pa, knowing who we’re with.”

“You know, I do have some videos from last month that I’m sure he’d love to see,” Hitch said with a sly smile, pulling out her phone, and Historia immediately rushed to her and tried snatching it from her hands.

“Jesus,” Eren muttered, and Armin startled, realizing that Eren had moved across the room to stand beside him. “I don’t even know how Levi and Erwin are even okay with this, watching those two.”

“They’ve grown used to it by now, I think,” Armin said lightly. As if to prove his point even further, Levi dragged Erwin to the kitchen by the arm without another look in their direction, beginning their usual morning routine of making tea and sipping it together on the couch in the TV room. Now Ymir, Jean, Reiner, and Mikasa were arguing about the seating arrangements in the car, and Connie, Marco, and Sasha had joined in on Hitch and Historia’s little fake-fight. Bertholdt just watched them all with exasperation and shot Armin an apologetic look, to which he shook his head with a small smile in response. “Also, how are we all gonna fit into the car? The only one I think we’d be able to squeeze into is Jean’s, but we’d probably suffocate, or something.”

“We rented a van,” Eren said, smiling when Armin turned to him with wide eyes.

“A van?”

“We thought it’d be more fun if we all went together instead of separately . And I also claimed good seats before, ‘cause, y’know.” He gestured to Armin. “Birthday boy.”

Armin flushed. “You guys really planned this all out, huh?”

“Well, yeah. It’s your birthday. This is the bare minimum.”

“Bare minimum,” Armin snorted. He hesitated, his eyes darting to the kitchen door for a moment, before he reached up and pecked Eren’s cheek. Eren would just think it was for practice, and they were in front of their friends, so not doing anything would be weird. Yeah, that was a good enough reason. “Thank you, Eren. You guys just being here and celebrating with us is already enough for me.”

“Uh, yeah,” Eren said, and Armin didn’t miss the hint of crimson flickering against his cheeks. He linked their pinkies together, the touch light, yet still searing against Armin’s skin. “I missed you. You didn’t text me yesterday.”

“Sorry,” Armin murmured. “I got, er, really busy with my parents. They were still a bit worried about what happened at the party.”

Busy was one way to put it, but Eren really didn’t have to know that he’d spent most of the day moping around in his room, questioning all his life choices, and replaying their last shared kiss over and over again in his head. 

“‘Min, there’s no need to apologize,” Eren sighed. “I was worried, too, which was why I asked. But you’re okay now?”

“More than.” Armin kissed the corner of his mouth. “So no more worrying. We’re supposed to have fun today.”

Eren snorted. “Alright, alright. Whatever the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.”

“That’s a lot of power to give me, you know.”

“Don’t I fucking know it.” 

“Guys!” Mikasa called as the others started piling out the front door. “We’re leaving in five. Armin, get your stuff ready.”

“What about Historia?”

“Ymir got her a bag of clothes from their place. So hurry.”

He shot her a thumbs up, and she joined the others outside a moment later. Eren nudged his shoulder. “I’ll see you outside.”

“Yeah,” Armin coughed, letting his shoulders slump in relief when Eren left. He really didn’t miss having these horrible jitters, or that constant sound of blood rushing to his ears each time Eren talked. Even before they’d gotten together the first time, those feelings hadn’t been this intense, just something he’d grown accustomed to over years and years of touching, being. He didn’t know why one year apart was enough to strip him of the familiarity, but what he did know was that if this was how he was going to react every time they so much as looked in each other’s direction, well, he was even more fucked than he thought he’d been.

He gathered his things together fairly quickly, only taking an extra two minutes to brush his teeth and change into a warm sweater and pants before he was rushing down the stairs again with his swimsuit, towel, blanket, book, and flip flops all shoved into his beach bag; it was too cold outside to swim, but precautions were precautions. Erwin and Levi had moved to the couch, as expected, with cups of tea sitting in their laps as they talked in hushed tones. “Bye, guys.”

They looked up, but there was something… off, about their expressions. Like they were trying to hide the fact that they were even discussing something in the first place. He shrugged it off, though. It was probably some old people gossip, or something dumb like that.

“Have fun, Armin,” Erwin said.

“Call us when you’re coming home, please,” Levi added. Armin snorted and nodded, then sprinted out the front door.

“Finally,” Sasha groaned, helping Mikasa through the sliding door of the van. Eren hadn’t been kidding about it being huge; it could probably fit all of them plus five other people. He spotted him in the back near one of the windows, and he swallowed. “I was just about to go in there and drag your ass out myself.”

“I didn’t even take that long!” Armin gawked, letting Sasha grab his bag from him to shove it into the trunk. She shot him a grin and pointed to where Eren was sitting.

“He was the one nagging me about you, just so you know.”

“Sure,” Armin murmured, using the handle of the sliding door for support as he hauled himself into the van. Ymir was in the driver’s seat with Historia in the passenger's seat, her legs propped up on the dashboard and their hands entangled on top of the gear stick. Mikasa sat in the seat right behind Historia, the seat beside her empty and likely reserved for Sasha. Connie and Bertholdt got two out of three of the lone seats, while Jean, Marco, and Reiner were squished into the double one on the right. Annie sat on Hitch’s lap on the third lone seat, small enough that they just barely fit. Then there was Eren, sitting alone in the back on the biggest seat in the entire van. He patted the space next to him, and Armin quickly joined him, flushing when Eren wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. If Armin were a stronger man, he wouldn’t have let out a small sigh, or squeezed Eren’s waist, or rested his face against his collarbone, but, alas, being able to resist something like this was practically impossible.

“You can put your feet up on me, if you want,” Eren told him, and Armin did exactly that, shifting around so that his legs were draped over Eren’s thighs with his hands still in their snug place around Eren’s lower stomach. “There’s so much space to lay down, too. I didn’t almost fist-fight Jean to get this seat for nothing.”

“You what?”

“My legs are already killing me,” Jean groaned, and Marco patted his shoulder with a small laugh. “It makes the most logical sense for me, Marco, and Reiner to sit in the back. Armin was going to sit on you anyways, so all that extra space is just fucking unnecessary.”

“He could lay down if he wants, which is why I wanted it,” Eren shrugged. “He’s the one who chose to sit on me.”

“That’s what I just fucking said.”

“Okay, and?”

“Let’s get this shit moving,” Sasha cut in as she tumbled into the van and slammed the sliding door shut. As soon as she was in her seat and strapped in, Ymir started backing out of the driveway, and Mikasa rested her head on Sasha’s shoulder.

“How long is the drive, again?” Connie asked warily. “I already have to pee.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you pee before we left?”

“I didn’t have to pee then, Sash.”

“An hour and a half,” Historia said from the front, and he shrugged.

“‘S not too bad.”

Reiner grimaced. “If you piss yourself again—”

“That was five years ago. ”

“Still did it.”

“God, please don’t remind me of that,” Bertholdt groaned. “Connie, just go pee.”

“No.”

“Connie.”

“I’m not turning back,” Ymir told him. “He’s on his own now.”

“This is just great,” Armin muttered as the others continued their bickering, and Eren chuckled. “It’s like high school all over again.”

“Reminds me of that one road trip we took to the countryside in junior year during spring break,” Eren mused. “I still don’t know how our parents let us go away by ourselves for that long.”

“We made a powerpoint presentation with, like, twenty-something slides to convince them. Denying us would’ve just been cruel,” Armin grinned. That trip was one of the few memories from before that he allowed himself to think about, sometimes. A house next to the forest they’d all rented with money they’d saved up since the beginning of the year, swimming in the lake every hour of the day, sunbathing till his skin turned red. Getting to sleep next to Eren in the same bed without having to keep the door at least two inches open for the first time. Things that seemed so far away from him now. “At least we didn’t die then. I don’t know about now, though.”

“What’re you talking about? Connie almost fucking drowned.”

“Because he somehow kept the fact that he couldn’t swim from us for four years.”

“Jesus,” Eren huffed. He kissed the top of Armin’s head, and Armin leaned into the touch despite the screams of protest coming from inside his head. “By the way, what time did you sleep last night?”

“Why?”

“You look tired.”

Armin licked his lips. “Er, kind of late,” he admitted sheepishly. Eren tsked. “Don’t give me that. Historia and I were waiting till the clock hit twelve.”

“And you call me the sap,” Eren teased. Armin lightly hit his stomach.

“That doesn’t make me a sap. Sentimental, maybe.”

“Sentimental’s one way to put it. On your eighteenth birthday you cried so hard you threw up all over my shirt.”

“Hey, you promised to never bring that up ever.”

“It wasn’t even that bad, ‘Min. You’ve gotten worse shit on me.”

Armin felt his cheeks get hot. “Eren.”

“It’s just the truth. I never said what—” Armin pinched his nose. “Ow.”

“Stop talking.”

“Fine,” Eren sighed. “Your wish is my command, I guess.”

Armin lifted his head and lightly pecked his lips, fighting a smile at how red Eren’s face went. He knew it was probably just because he wasn’t expecting it, but it still made his stomach feel like it was floating. “That was a very sappy thing for you to say, ‘Ren.”

“It was not.”

“It really was.”

“Didn’t you tell me you liked it when I talked like that, like, two days ago?”

Armin swallowed. “Don’t recall anything of the sort.”

“Mhmmmm. Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“Whatever you say,” Eren whistled. “We all know what the truth is.”

“Well—”

“For the love of fuck.” Jean turned around and shot them a glare. “I’m gonna throw up. If you’re gonna be all fuckin’ sweet-talk-ey, do it quietly, please. I’ve already been subjected to enough torture.”

“Cover your ears, then, I don’t know,” said Eren haughtily. 

“You’re dead as soon as we get off this thing.”

Eren repeated what he said in a whiny, high pitched voice, and Jean genuinely looked like he was going to unbuckle out of his seat and smack him across the face. “Fuck you.”

“I will, thanks.”

“All your insults sound like a sixth grader’s,” Sasha called from the front. “My ears are gonna start bleeding.”

“Yeah, Jean,” Eren grinned. 

“She was talking about you too, idiot.”

“I’m going to sleep,” Armin grumbled, burying his face against Eren’s hoodie so that his ears were somewhat covered. His head was already throbbing and it hadn’t even been ten minutes into the Goddamn trip. He heard a few muffled apologies whispered against the top of his head, then felt a gentle hand begin to card through his hair.

“D’you wanna listen to music to drown out the noise?” Eren asked quietly. “I have my earphones with me.”

“Yeah, actually, thanks,” Armin murmured. Eren shuffled a bit, and then he felt a cool, plastic surface against his left ear. He took the earbud from Eren and put it on, and Eren made sure his side was in before plugging them into his phone. “All I ask is that you don’t play anything too loud, and we’re good.”

“I’ll play, like, classical music or some shit.”

“Classical music? Since when?”

“I know you like it.” Eren scrolled through a playlist he must’ve searched up and showed Armin the screen. “You pick which one you want.”

Armin kissed the side of his jaw, the closest patch of skin he could reach from his position. “I don’t mind anything. Just put it on shuffle.”

Eren did, and Armin snuggled up against him again, making himself comfortable. “I’ll wake you up when we’re close.”

To Armin’s relief, the music did have its intended effect in keeping him relaxed. Each song smoothly blended into the next, and combined with the briny smell of salt now filtering in through the open windows, he was well on his way to falling into deep sleep, until he was woken up with (welcome) kisses to his temple and eyelids. He sat up, his eyes immediately training to the view outside, and he grinned instantly. The sea was clearly visible to the right of the van, dark blue water crashing against white sand in harsh, wind-ridden waves underneath a sky full of light gray clouds. Coming here during the winter was something Armin looked forward to every year, since he had an excuse not to get wet and just quietly enjoy the sounds of moving water and the feeling of soft sand against his skin. Eren laced their fingers together, stroking his thumb against Armin’s knuckles, and his breath caught in his throat at the sudden skin-to-skin contact.

“I didn’t realize it’d be this cold,” Eren said, shuddering and giving a frown. “How the fuck did it go from being so warm yesterday to this?”

“November is just one of those unpredictable months,” Armin mused, squeezing Eren’s hand. “When we set everything up I’ll give you the blanket I got.”

“Thanks, ‘Min,” Eren smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’m guessing you’re not swimming?”

“In this weather? No, thank you. I’d rather die.”

“Finally, some fucking common sense.”

“Don’t tell me everyone else is.”

“Not everyone.” Eren nodded to Connie, which didn’t surprise Armin in the slightest. “Him and Sasha both got dared by Ymir to dunk themselves in the water, and like the idiots they are, they’re fucking doing it.”

“Nuh uh, do not go there,” Connie said suddenly. Armin raised a brow. “You were gonna join us, too, till you chickened out like a little bitch.”

“I didn’t chicken out, I just felt like being reasonable.”

“Whatever you say, man. If Armin wasn’t coming with us you definitely would’ve done it.”

Eren’s cheeks darkened, and Armin frowned. “You’re not doing it because of me?”

“Not because,” Eren murmured. “I’d just rather spend time with you.”

It was Armin’s turn to blush, and Connie snickered. “Eren, I don’t want you missing out on having fun just because I want to sit back and watch.”

“I have more fun with you, though.” Armin opened his mouth, but Eren cut him off before he could start talking. “And don’t say you’ll do it with me. I don’t need you getting sick again.”

“Eren. Do I look sick to you?”

“You will be if you dunk yourself in freezing cold sea-water.”

“Don’t listen to him, Armin,” Connie grinned, and Eren shot him a dirty look. “Only the bravest souls wander in the depths of the deep, and you, my dear, are the bravest of them all.”

Armin wheezed. “What the hell?” 

“I think that’s the most intellectual thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth in the last three years,” Hitch smirked, and he flipped her off.

“Fuck off. You’re not part of this.”

“You’re sitting right in front of me, so I kind of am.”

“Annie, can you tell her to shut up, please?”

Annie only opened one eye, yet her look was just as menacing as it would’ve been had she looked at him with both. “Do I look like I give a single fuck about what you’re talking about right now?”

“Uh, no,” Connie paled, and she went back to snoozing. “I think I pissed myself.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Bertholdt shuddered. “Please.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Ew, Connie,” Jean groaned. 

“He pissed?” Ymir screeched from the front, and Armin could practically see the grin on her face, even from where he sat. “Please tell me someone got it on video.”

“Why on God’s green earth would you want that shit on video?”

“Blackmail, Kirstein, blackmail. What else?”

“Maybe you have a piss kink.”

“What the fuck?”

Armin took their growing argument as an opportunity to nudge Eren’s foot with his own. “‘Ren, seriously, if you wanna go swim with them, don’t let me stop you.”

Eren snorted. “Nah. Like I said, I’d rather stay with you anyway. Plus,” he kissed the corner of Armin’s mouth, making his cheeks pinken even deeper, “I’m really not in the mood to be reckless today, surprisingly.”

Armin’s brows raised. “Really?”

“Yep,” Eren grinned proudly. 

“I never thought I’d see the day where those words came out of your mouth.”

“Yeah, well, when it’s your boyfriend’s birthday, there are more important priorities than getting sick like an idiot.”

“At least you can admit you’re an idiot,” Connie said before Armin could quietly remind Eren that he was his fake boyfriend. Eren stuck his tongue out at him.

“Fucking finally,” Ymir abruptly shouted from the front, causing them all to go silent. Historia faced the group — who all had equally confused expressions — with a grin.

“She found parking.”

Armin looked out the window again and felt that familiar bubble of excitement start to rise in his chest. He hadn’t even noticed how close they’d gotten to the ocean, but the parking spot Ymir had scored was right next to where the smooth, gray pavement ended and the plains of sand started. She began backing into the spot, and after a few moments, the van stopped completely, and Armin heard the sound of the engine turning off. Everyone started piling out of the vehicle in moments, Armin and Eren being the last ones to step outside. Eren untangled their hands for a split second to get both his and Armin’s bags out of the trunk, then swung them both over one shoulder, linked their fingers together again, and followed the direction the others were going in.

“Where do you think the best patch of sand would be to set up the food and stuff?” Sasha asked loudly, her eyes scanning the area. Mikasa pursed her lips. 

“I think over there would be best, no?” She pointed to the least crowded spot on the right side of the beach; Armin hadn’t expected this many people to be here, considering the weather. “There aren’t that many seagulls compared to the other areas.”

“Any objections?” Sasha waited a few seconds, but nobody had any other suggestions. “Over there it is, then.”

After making their way across the bumpy parts of the sand (and having more than a few accidents. Namely, Connie splitting his toe open and Reiner almost spilling one of the large baskets of food they’d brought), they managed to set out the baskets on a few blankets spread out over a small area. Immediately after they’d done their part in helping, Connie and Sasha raced each other to the sea — not even bothering to change into swimming suits, the idiots — and drenched themselves in water. The scream Connie let out next echoed so loudly Armin wouldn’t be surprised if the entire beach was able to hear him.

“You really are sick for making them do this,” Historia told Ymir, though her mouth was twisted into a tiny, amused smile. Ymir slung her arms around Historia’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

“I didn’t make them do anything. They were the ones who wanted to do my stupid dare, not me.”

Armin huffed out a laugh and sat criss-crossed on one of the blankets, Eren following his lead a moment later, resting his head against Armin’s shoulder and letting out a small sigh. After a second’s hesitation, Armin wrapped one arm around Eren’s torso and used the other to gently tuck a strand of brown hair behind his ear. “You okay?”

“‘M fine. You’re just warm,” Eren said quietly. Armin frowned, grabbed his bag from behind them, and took out the fluffy blanket he’d packed. He let go of Eren for a moment to wrap it around their shoulders, and once they were settled, Eren nestled his head in the crook of Armin’s neck, making goosebumps start to prickle up his spine. Cold wind bit at his cheeks, but it was nothing in comparison to the warmth of Eren’s hot breaths against his skin. “Mmmm.”

“And you tease me for falling asleep on you all the time,” Armin murmured, his voice a little airy. Eren lazily flicked his collarbone.

“I’m not asleep.”

“Your voice is already getting raspy.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Eren! Armin!” Mikasa shouted. Historia and Ymir had started walking down the beach next to the water, Historia’s arms around her waist and Ymir’s still wrapped snugly around her shoulders. Jean and Marco had joined Connie and Sasha at the edge of the water, Jean almost being dragged in by a particularly harsh wave. Annie, Hitch, and Reiner were passing around a volleyball, and Bertholdt was watching not too far away on one of the other blankets, a small grin on his face. “We’re over here playing if you need anything.”

“Have fun!” Armin yelled, and she smiled before running over to join them. He heard Eren hiss.

“Ow, ‘Min, I think my eardrum just exploded.”

Armin chuckled and kissed his forehead. Practice. “Sorry. You don’t want to join them?”

“I will in a bit.” Eren quickly kissed his neck and sat up. “But I have something I wanna give you first now that nobody’s bothering us.”

“Give me something?”

Eren reached into his pocket and took out a small, suspiciously fancy-looking black box outlined with rhinestones at the bottom. Armin blinked, and before he could stop himself, said, “Are you fake-proposing to me right now?”

“What the— no,” Eren sputtered, his cheeks and the tips of his ears blooming crimson. “I mean, uh, do you want me to?”

“Seems a bit early in our relationship, Eren, don’t you think?” Armin chuckled, yet his pulse quickened at even the possibility. Stop being so pathetic, he thought. 

You’re not even actually dating.

“That wasn’t a no.”

Armin narrowed his eyes. “It really does look like a ring box, though.”

“It was, uh—” Eren paused for a moment, looking anywhere but Armin’s face. Huh. “My mom’s.”

“Carla’s?”

“I found it. In her closet,” Eren said in a rush, a tell Armin had picked up long before they’d even dated that he knew meant Eren was trying to make something up on the spot but was failing miserably. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. The box doesn’t matter.”

“Sure,” Armin said carefully, not pressing any further, because the last thing he wanted to do was stress Eren out for whatever reason. His ears were so red Armin thought they would be able to melt from the heat alone. “What is it, exactly?”

Eren swallowed. “Okay, so, I know you said no birthday gifts this year—”

“Eren. Oh my—”

“—but I found this, like, a few days ago, and I immediately thought of you and it was on sale and it would’ve just been a waste if I didn’t get it. So.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Armin’s cheeks warmed. “You’re so—” he grabbed Eren’s face with both hands and smacked a long, harsh kiss to his cheek, not trusting himself enough to keep his calm and not say something so utterly stupid their brains may as well have oozed out of their ears. “Thank you. Seriously, you didn’t have to get me anything, oh my God.”

“Of course I did,” Eren said weakly. “It’s a special fucking day, as much as you like to deny it.”

“Didn’t I already say spending time with you is enough of a gift for me?” Armin mumbled, kissing his cheek again, albeit a lot softer this time. 

“Sap.” Eren gently placed the box in Armin’s hand and pecked his nose. “Happy birthday, ‘Min.”

Armin grinned, slowly opened the box, and immediately gasped at the sight that hit him. Inside was probably the most beautiful necklace he’d ever seen, and he’d seen a lot, courtesy of Mikasa and Historia’s combined jewelry box growing up. Bright gold metal weaved together and was connected at the bottom by an equally golden spiral seashell, decorated with intricate, curved lines all around its outer shell to its middle that he could run his thumb over. He picked it up delicately. “Eren, it’s gorgeous. Where the hell did you find it?”

“Mom wanted me to come with her to this bazaar thing,” Eren said, and Armin turned the shell around using his fingers, almost convinced it was real and just painted over with gold; that was how realistic it looked. “There was this booth selling necklaces, and this one was right at the front. I was lucky nobody got it before me.”

“So pretty,” Armin breathed. “I’m never taking it off. I swear.”

“You really like it?”

“I love it.” He slotted their lips together before he could think, and Eren’s hand instantly reached up to cup his cheek, his thumb sliding back and forth against his skin. Armin let himself bask in the touch for a moment, before pulling away with one last small peck. “Thank you, Eren, really. It’s better than any gift I could’ve asked for.”

“Then I’m satisfied,” Eren smiled. He rested their temples together. “D’you want me to put it on you?”

“Yes, please,” Armin whispered. He handed the necklace to Eren and turned around, shivering when he felt the cool touch of the metal against his skin. It took a few seconds for Eren to get the hook open, cursing each time his thumb slipped from the handle, but once he was done, he kissed the nape of Armin’s neck, making him shiver.

“Is it too tight?”

“Nope, perfect.” Armin turned his head, beaming. He genuinely couldn’t help it if he tried— it was as if the muscles in his face were stuck permanently upwards. “Does it look good?”

“It suits you so well,” Eren said happily. “Shit, I’m so glad it fits. I was worried it’d be too small.”

“It didn’t look that small, though.”

“You never know with jewelry.” 

“Still,” Armin sighed. “It’s perfect, Eren, really. You always get the best gifts.”

“I’m just amazing, aren’t I?”

“Mhmmmmm.” Armin kissed the corner of his mouth. “You don’t mind if I tell Historia, do you?”

“Going to show off already?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll just play with the others till you come back, then,” Eren grinned, standing and helping Armin do the same. He gave his hand a little squeeze. “Come get me if you need anything, ‘kay?”

Armin nodded and left him a moment later, jogging over to where Historia and Ymir were walking, which wasn’t that far away from where they’d been sitting. He called his sister’s name, and she turned around with a brow raised.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” he panted, stopping to catch his breath. “Well, kind of.”

“What’s that on your neck?”

Ymir glanced in between them, then pursed her lips. “Yeah, uh, I’ll be over there with Jean.” She kissed Historia’s cheek, said a mumbled goodbye to Armin, and hastily made her way over to where he was, filming whatever the hell Connie and Sasha were doing on his phone. Historia eyed Armin up and down.

“You look like Dad every time he wins those online crossword puzzles right now.”

“What?”

“Like, the way he always fucking grins like he’s on cloud nine,” Historia mused. “He also looks that way every time Pa kisses his cheek. No wonder you turned out all gross and sappy.”

“You know what—” Armin inhaled. “I’m not even gonna indulge in your bullshit right now.”

“You’re just mad ‘cause I’m right.” She linked their arms together and forced him to walk. “Spit it out.”

Armin flushed, his free hand trailing up his chest to touch the golden shell. “Er, Eren got me a gift.”

“Of course he did,” Historia snorted. “Even though you told him a million times not to. Which was stupid, by the way.”

“Shut it.” He held it up by the shell, and even she looked impressed, her brows raising to her hairline. “Look.”

“That is—” she blew out a breath. “Damn.”

“I know.” 

“That guy is so down bad it’s honestly pathetic.” She touched the shell with her finger. “Is that real gold?”

“I actually don’t know.”

“Looks like it.” She shook her head. “What are you gonna tell Pa and Dad when they ask about it?”

Armin shrugged. “That’s if they ask.”

“You know they will. It’s not that hard to miss, Armin.”

“Then I’ll just tell them Mikasa got it for me, or something.” He furrowed his brows at the annoyed look on her face. “Why’s it so important all of a sudden?”

“Because—” She huffed. “Jesus. Armin, they know.”

“No they don’t.”

“They do.”

“And did they tell you that?”

“No—”

“So then they don’t.”

“—But I saw them.”

“Okay, but where?”

She pinched his arm, and he yelped. “You weren’t exactly subtle with Eren back at the house. Like, did you not think that they’d be able to see you through the door when you and him started doing all that lovey-dovey shit? The very open door?”

“Oh.” Armin blinked and stopped in his tracks. Come to think of it, he had been a little risky back at the house, hadn’t he? But he’d checked the kitchen doorway before giving him that kiss. Or maybe he’d been so giddy about seeing Eren like the idiot he was that he’d just blocked the sight of his parents peering through the door completely. At least that explained why they’d been so hush-hush and closed-off before he left. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” She smirked. “Didn’t think you’d be that careless, Armin.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks burning. She was right, of course, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that. “Do you think they’re going to bring it up when I get back?”

“Nah, not really. They worry, but you know they won’t pry. They’ll probably just wait for you to tell them yourself.” She nudged his shoulder. “Which you should. I don’t even know why you kept it from them for this long. It’s not like they’d care that much. Like, sure, they’d be surprised, but happy.”

Because this is going to end sooner or later, and I’m not about to put them through the same shit I did last year. He forced the hurt in his chest to dissipate. “I just didn’t want to intimidate Eren and make him run off, or something.”

“You think that would scare him off?” She scoffed. “It’s Eren. He’d probably follow you to hell and back if you asked him to, the idiot.”

“I think that’s a bit much,” Armin sputtered, yet he knew if Eren had asked him that, he’d say yes with no hesitation before he even finished the damn sentence. Pathetic. “This sucks.”

“Think about it this way,” she started. “It’s like ripping off a bandaid that was bound to crumple anyways. I bet you they’ve suspected something since the beginning of this whole mess, so you confirming would just make it easier for everyone to calm the fuck down and act normal.”

“What the hell was that metaphor?” Armin giggled, and Historia’s cheeks bloomed pink. “‘Ripping off a bandaid that was bound to crumple anyways?’”

“It was a good fucking analogy, okay? Because it’s true.”

“Sure, Tori.”

“Fuck you.”

“Mhmmm.” He ruffled her hair with his free hand. “Okay, enough of Pa and Dad. I don’t want to think about it if I can help it.”

“Fine,” she sighed.

“Thank you. What’d Ymir get you? Because I know she got something.”

Historia gave a sly grin and held up her left hand, and Armin almost choked on his own spit. On her ring finger was a silver band sparkled with tiny little diamonds all around its exterior, glistening even without the rays of the sun. He opened his mouth to scream, but before he could, she said, “Before you freak out, it’s not an engagement ring. Yet.”

He let out a sigh and placed his hand against his chest. “Holy fucking shit. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack.”

“Save it for next year.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t act all surprised,” she laughed. “Ymir’s the only person I’d ever willingly marry, and you know it.”

Armin smirked. “Well, yeah. I think she’d probably die if you ever broke up with her.”

“And vice versa.” She wiggled her fingers. “We’re just waiting until the right time, you know? Which is soon. But it’ll happen.”

“Okay, but next time, don’t just spring that on me out of nowhere. Jesus,” Armin grumbled. “You better tell me first when she asks.”

“Mhm.”

“Tori.”

“Fine.”

“There we go.” He nudged her shoulder. “Man, what is it with all these engagement things today? First that fucking box and now this.”

“Box?”

“Yeah. I know I’m probably just being, like, crazy—”

“Which I’m ninety-nine percent sure is what happened.”

“—But the necklace was in this box that looked a lot like a ring box. Like, a lot.”

She stilled for a moment, and before Armin could ask what was wrong, she said, “What did it look like?”

“Huh?”

“I’m saying, what did the box look like, idiot?”

“I just said—”

“Give me specifics.”

“Uhhh.” He squinted. “It was pretty small and not made out of, like, normal box material. It was velvet fabric.”

Her eyes widened. “Did it have little rhinestones on the bottom?”

“Yeah? I think so. I couldn’t really see.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, which immediately made Armin nervous, because either she was picking up on something he wasn’t, or she knew something he didn’t. “Tori, why are you doing that look?”

“What look?”

“The look. The I know something look.”

“I don’t have an I know something look.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“Tori,” he said, furrowing his brows. “Don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

She nervously glanced at the others behind them, then back to him. “Fuck. I didn’t think he’d be that fucking stupid, but it’s Jeager we’re talking about—”

“I’m still not following.”

“Did he seriously give you the necklace in that box?”

Armin suppressed a groan. “Yes. I said it a million times.”

“Fucking dipshit,” she muttered. “And what did he say about it?”

“He said it was Carla’s.”

“ Hell.”

“If you don’t tell me—”

“He’s making this so difficult,” she whined, pausing her movements and unlinking their arms to rub her eyes. “Fuck.”

“Tori.”

“Armin,” she started. “If I say this to you, you need to, one, promise me you won’t have a mental breakdown—”

“Huh?”

“—And, two, that you won’t say shit to anyone. I mean it.”

He nervously laughed. “It can’t be that serious, can it?”

“Armin.”

He held his hands up. “Okay, okay, I swear I won’t freak out or tell anyone. I swear.”

“Okay.” She frowned and crossed her arms, sneaking one last glance at the others behind them. “It was a ring box.”

“I figured.”

“But it wasn’t Carla’s.” She rubbed her temples. “It was his.”

“And why the hell would he have a ring box?”

She looked at him like she was on the verge of kicking him in the shin. “For you.”

He blinked. It took him a second to process what she’d just said, but when he did, well, it was safe to say his brain had quite literally short circuited. His jaw went slack, eyes going wide enough to drink from, and she immediately grabbed his shoulders and gave him a little shake. “Armin. You said you wouldn’t freak out.”

He’d bought a ring. Eren had bought him a ring. In a box. But—

“You’re lying,” he choked out, his chest tightening at a rapid pace. “When—”

“Last year.” She gave him a sympathetic look, which made him feel even worse. “He told me he was gonna do it beforehand and made me promise not to tell you. He even asked Pa and Dad for permission and everything. I don’t know why he’d be stupid enough to give the box to you now, though.”

“He was gonna—” Armin ran a hand through his hair, the information still not quite processing through his head. He got me a ring. “Who else knew?”

“Just us. I don’t know if he told Mikasa.”

“Fuck.” He pulled at his hair with both hands. Again, for the millionth time, he asked why. Why him? Why did he have to be so stupid, so clueless, so weak, when it came to Eren? Why did he have to be a total fucking idiot and break things off last year and not even remember why he did it? Why did he have to let Eren slip away and ruin everything? If only he hadn’t blown up and gotten in his own head like he always did— maybe they could’ve worked things out. Maybe, instead of having to come up with this stupid, awful fake arrangement, he could’ve spent his birthday with Eren as his real boyfriend — fiancé, even — without a care for anything else in this shitty, unfair world. But he’d wasted his chance. Any possibility of bringing back how things were before were gone, because of him.

“Armin,” Historia said softly, gently grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from his head. “Aw, shit, don’t cry, it’s okay.”

He hadn’t even noticed the tears welling up in his eyes, but he wiped them away the second a drop of water fell onto his cheek. “Sorry.”

“Shhh. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”

“I still could’ve—”

“But you fixed things, didn’t you?” she said with a smile, and he gave it his all not to scream, no, I didn’t, because I’m a fucking idiot. “Listen, if he knew you wanted to, he’d ask you again without hesitation. Which, okay, it’s a bit early, but just wait it out. It’s gonna work out. I have a feeling.”

“Yeah,” Armin said hoarsely, even though he knew. He knew it wouldn’t, but just for now, he’d let himself have even a small semblance of hope, because he wouldn’t let his shitty overthinking and stupid feelings ruin anything else and expose their plan. “Yeah, it’ll work out.”

“Yeah.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry, ‘Min. I didn’t mean to spring this on you on our birthday of all things, but Jesus—”

He shut her up with a hug, and she gingerly patted his back. “I’m glad you told me. Really. It would’ve been worse if I didn’t know anything.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He drew back and kissed the top of her head. “It’s all good.”

He wasn’t lying. She wasn’t the one he was mad at. The only person he would hold any resentment towards was himself.

She didn’t look convinced, but, to his relief, didn’t press him any further. “Okay. Let’s just forget about it for now, yeah? You don’t need to think about it.”

He smiled tightly. “Yeah.”

They slowly walked back to the others in silence, though Armin appreciated the peacefulness of it, letting the sounds of the waves and sand plopping underneath his feet somewhat clear his head. He didn’t know what he was going to do now that he’d gathered this little piece of information that’d been kept from him for a year, but he knew he’d figure it out. And hopefully, Eren wouldn’t notice that something was wrong. Hopefully. Maybe.

“What took you guys so long?” Connie called, hissing when he stepped out of the water and onto the shore. His shirt and pants were soaked to the brim, and his teeth were chattering. “Fuck.”

“I still don’t know why you ran in completely clothed,” Historia mused. Sasha was beginning to make her own way out of the sea, cursing and flipping Jean off, who was still filming. Marco was just snickering from afar. “Where’d Ymir go?”

He squeezed a bit of water out of his shirt and pointed to where the others had set up the net they’d brought. “Went to play volleyball with the others. She and Eren were forced on the same team and they look like they’re about to murder each other.”

“Of course,” Armin sighed. Connie raised a brow.

“You good, man? You look a little frazzled.”

He shared a glance with Historia. “I’m just a bit chilly. The wind is picking up.”

“Yeah, well, at least you’re dry and wearing a sweater,” Connie said haughtily.

“And whose fault is it that you’re wet right now?”

Connie held his hands in the air. “Touché.”

Historia smirked. “I didn’t even think you knew that word.”

“Okay, y’know what, fuck you. And fuck Armin too, for good measure.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this!” Armin gawked. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You’re her brother, so you’re guilty by association.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Con.”

“It does in Connie Land.”

“Huh?” Armin heard a shout from behind, and he grimaced. “That sounded awfully like Ymir.”

“C’mon,” Historia said, tugging his arm, and they jogged to where the others were. Reiner and Hitch were sitting out, and it was Ymir and Eren versus Mikasa and Annie. Armin had to stifle a laugh behind his hand. Sure, Eren and Ymir were athletic, but they were nothing compared to the combined strength of the other two.

Eren was panting, some of his hair having come loose from his bun and blowing in his face, but he immediately brightened at seeing Armin. For what felt like the millionth time today, Armin had to force himself not to curl into a ball on the floor and scream until his vocal chords disintegrated. 

“Ar—” He was cut off by Annie serving the ball and hitting him straight in the face. Armin winced. He knew firsthand how hard she hit the ball, seeing as he’d been forced to play against her in middle school and had completely embarrassed himself in front of their entire class, so that definitely couldn’t have felt good. “Ow, what the fuck? We didn’t even start!”

“Yes we did. You were just too busy ogling to pay attention,” Annie said flatly. She gave Armin a small nod. “Unless you leave, he’s not going to focus.”

“I can focus!” Eren protested, but his cheeks and ears had gone beet red. Ymir shot him a distasteful look.

“Useless ass bitch.”

Eren threw the volleyball back over the net. “Annie, I’ll literally pay you to hit her right now.”

“Sucks for—” Annie hit another serve and hit Ymir square in the face. “Traitor.”

“You’re just as bad as him.”

“Am not.”

“Reiner!” Eren shouted. “You can play now.”

“Finally,” he groaned, sitting up and stretching his arms. “You guys were taking forever.”

“Because Eren’s being useless, as usual,” Ymir said. Eren flipped her off.

“Says the one who—”

“I’ll hit you again,” Annie threatened, and he shut his mouth. “Fucking idiot.”

“Can I start this time?” Mikasa asked, and Annie passed her the ball. Reiner and Ymir warily got into position, Historia sat next to Bertholdt on the nearest blanket, and Armin hesitantly made his way over to Eren, who’d gone back to the blanket they were sitting at before. He shot Armin a sweet smile, and his chest fluttered with warmth.

“You hungry? It’s almost twelve already.” 

“A bit,” Armin admitted. Eren reached over and grabbed one of the baskets, and Armin sat beside him, close enough that their knees were touching. He tried to keep the contact minimal, though. Any more and he’d probably explode on the spot. “What’s in there?”

“Hmmm.” Eren rummaged through it. “Croissants, grilled cheese sandwiches— is that turkey?”

“I can practically hear your stomach growling.”

“Playing against those two is not for the weak, I’ll tell you that,” Eren muttered, taking out a turkey sandwich and passing Armin the basket. “It’s all yours. Pig out as much as you want.”

Armin took out a croissant and bit into the soft bread, which was surprisingly still warm. “There’s no way you’re only going to have one turkey sandwich.”

Eren snorted. “Who knows. It might be, like, filling.”

“Filling,” Armin giggled. As he took another bite, he stole a glance at the people sitting not too far away from their little area, his eyes widening slightly. A boy around their age, with red hair that frankly looked like a rooster atop his head, was staring straight at them. Well, more like staring at Eren, his eyes glazed over in a manner Armin had become familiar with ever since high school.

Dating someone as attractive as Eren had its pros and cons— the pros obviously being that it was Eren, and the cons being that he had to deal with people’s stares and their obvious interest in him. Most times, they’d back off when they saw Eren’s hand around Armin’s waist, or the kiss to his cheek, but now, they weren’t exactly sitting in a way that’d be considered couple-y, the other boy probably just mistaking them for a couple of friends hanging out normally.

Annoyance twisted in Armin’s chest, even though the statement wasn’t wrong. They were friends, weren’t they? Just friends carrying out some stupid, fake-dating plan that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, even if his mind wanted to so desperately pretend they weren’t.

“That guy is staring at you,” Armin muttered, his appetite slipping away. Eren raised a brow.

“Who?”

“That guy. Over there.” Armin nodded his head in the boy’s direction. 

Eren blinked. “You mean Floch?”

Armin tried not to let the sudden rigidness in his shoulders show. “You know him?”

“I mean, I met him, like, ten minutes ago. He played with us for a bit.”

“Oh. Cool.” Armin forced himself to take another bite. So what if Eren talked to him? Armin had no right to be jealous, because it wasn’t like they’d actually talked that much, and they weren’t even dating, so if Eren had any interest in Floch it would be perfectly normal—

“Is something wrong?” Eren asked with a frown. 

“No.”

“Well, I know there’s something, ‘cause you’re doing the rigid thing again.”

“You should go talk to him. Floch,” Armin said instead of answering, refusing to meet Eren’s eyes. “He seems nice.”

“Why would I wanna talk to him?”

“To get out there. I don’t know.”

“To get—” Eren suddenly laughed. “Armin, are you jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous? We’re not actually dating, are we?” Armin muttered. He heard Eren sigh.

“‘Min.” He gently lifted Armin’s head by the chin, sparks of hot, hot, hot rippling against the skin there. “I don’t wanna talk to him.”

“But—”

“This arrangement may be fake, yeah, but it’s still mutually exclusive,” Eren interrupted. “Plus, if there’s anyone I’d wanna spend any time with, it’s you. Always.”

“Oh.” Heat burned beneath Armin’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, er, me too.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Promise.” 

“I wasn’t—”

“Fake- worry about, then.”

“Is that even a word?”

“It is now, ‘cause I just made it up.”

Armin giggled, and Eren closed the space between them, pressing their lips together and moving his hand from Armin’s chin to his hair. Armin’s eyes shut immediately, and he sighed into it, his hand trailing up Eren’s hoodie and tugging on one of the strings. How was he supposed to care about anything, anything at all, when Eren’s voice and touch melted away all that he held dear? When the sinful use of his tongue against the seam of his mouth sent heat pooling in his stomach, the gentle tug to his hair, made Armin think that he could stay like this forever with no complaints?

He made a small, embarrassing sound, and pressed closer, Eren letting him do so eagerly. It was too easy to lose himself in Eren, he knew that, yet just this once, he would let himself lose a little bit of control. Because all of this was temporary. The warmth of Eren’s mouth, the soft touches to his neck, the little, breathy mewls against his lips, were all going to be gone soon, and there was nothing he’d be able to do about it. He didn’t want this to end, which was why it had to, for both their sakes.

“Eren,” Armin murmured, but Eren’s only response was another tug to his hair. “Eren.”

“Hm?” he breathed, moving from Armin’s lips to the underside of his jaw. “You’re so warm.”

Armin swallowed, sure that Eren had felt it, and peeked at Floch again, satisfaction turning in his stomach at the sight of him looking away with his brows furrowed. “Eren, I think he got the message.”

“Don’t care.”

“Eren,” Armin mumbled, gently pushing at Eren’s chest. “That’s enough, yeah? I don’t need us getting escorted off the beach for indecency.”

“I’m just kissing your neck,” Eren grumbled, but he still pulled away and opted to rest his head against Armin’s shoulder instead. “Is this too indecent for you?”

“Just perfect,” Armin mused, already missing the feeling of Eren’s lips against his skin, and he scratched the back of Eren’s head, grinning when he sighed. “You still like that spot, hm?”

“You really are killing me,” Eren said, his breaths coming in short. “And you have no fucking clue how much.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“I’d like to save at least a bit of my dignity, thanks.”

“Since when did you care about that?”

Eren nestled his head in the crook of Armin’s neck, and Armin moved from scratching to carding his fingers through brown locks. “‘Cause it’s you.”

The silence that stretched between them indicated that Eren wouldn’t elaborate any further, and Armin much preferred it that way. At least there was one less thing he’d have to think about when he got back home.

“Here,” Armin said, a thought suddenly coming to his head. He took Eren off him for a moment, who was rapidly blinking his eyes as if he was on the verge of sleep, before Armin lay down on his back and gestured for Eren to join him. Eren understood in instants, wrapping his arms around Armin’s waist, resting his head against his chest, and letting out small, soft puffs of breath. “There you go. That’s better, right?”

Eren yawned. “So much better.”

“Did you really get enough sleep last night, or?”

“Yeah. You’re just warm,” Eren mumbled. “Could do this forever.”

And, oh, if Armin wasn’t so far gone already, he’d definitely dipped into the lowest possible down bad category in existence. There were so many things he wanted to say, in that moment, some that he didn’t even want to think about, but all he could manage was, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Armin kissed his forehead. “Best birthday gift ever.”

“Even better than the necklace?”

“A million times better.”

Eren lifted his head and grinned. “Then I guess we just have to stay here, then. No taking it back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Armin said softly.

“Good.”

It wasn’t long until Armin felt himself slipping away, too, the both of them snoozing together on that blanket, basking in each other’s warmth in spite of the cool, unforgiving air, until the sun began to set and Mikasa had to wake them up to pack all their stuff and walk back to the van. Even then, they stayed glued together, making use of the space in the backseat and holding each other so tightly Armin was surprised they hadn't fused themselves together by the time he had to leave.

And, if he was going to be honest, he wouldn’t have chosen to spend his birthday any other way.

Chapter Text

“Armin, I seriously think I’m gonna pull a Connie and piss my pants right now.”

“Oh my God, don’t say that, Eren. We’re going to be fine. I think.”

“This is such a bad idea,” he hissed as he paced around Armin’s living room, and Eren never paced, so Armin knew that he definitely wasn’t kidding about the Connie thing. “And I’m saying that. Me.”

Armin grimaced. Honestly, he couldn’t even be disgusted at Eren if he did end up pissing himself, because he was — unfortunately — right. This whole plan was very piss-worthy (a thought which pained him to no end) and had him seriously considering both his life choices and his entire life altogether. 

To be fair, Eren hadn’t acted this stressed out when he’d broken the news of Levi and Erwin knowing about their arrangement yesterday— in fact, he’d been surprisingly calm, even going as far to suggest that they officially tell them together to make it more “believable.” Armin had agreed, obviously, because there was no way in the deepest depths of hell that he was going to tell them alone, but he was slowly beginning to regret that decision. He hadn’t seen Eren sweat this much since their final math exam in senior year.

“Eren,” Armin started, but the other boy just kept pacing and mumbling to himself. Armin sighed, got up from the couch, and grabbed Eren’s hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Eren. I need you to take a deep breath.”

“How the fuck are you not freaking out?” he whined, and Armin frowned. “Holy shit, I’m having, like, heart palpitations.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t freaking out, but this is freaking out a bit too much. You’re acting like we’re telling them we’re getting married, or something.” He immediately winced when he said that, remembering Historia’s words and that fucking box from a week ago, then forced the memory away. Thinking about that for too long made his stomach and chest twist into a million knots, and he could not afford to work himself up to that extent when Eren was already on the verge of collapsing. “They’ll probably just be glad that we said something instead of sneaking around even more like we have for the past month.”

“Uh huh. I can already feel Levi’s glare on me.”

“He’s not going to glare at you.”

“Okay, now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

Armin squeezed his hand. “‘Ren.”

“‘Min.”

“You don’t even have to talk at all. And if you want to leave at any point—”

“Hell no,” Eren grumbled. “I’m not chickening out now.”

Armin chuckled and kissed his cheek, a swirl of affection turning in his chest at the sight of Eren’s face blooming red. It’s probably just because of the sweat, idiot. 

Don’t get your hopes up. 

“The fact that you’re even here in the first place is more than I would’ve asked of you.”

“Again, I’m just doing the bare minimum.”

“Whatever you say, Eren.” He led him to the couch and gently pushed him down by the shoulders. “Sit for a bit, yeah? You’re going to sweat more if you keep walking around like that.”

“But I physically can’t sit still,” Eren complained. His leg began to bounce at a rapid pace. “I feel like I’m trapped in my own skin, or something.”

Armin furrowed his brows. “Eren—” 

“But I’m fine. It’s fine.” Eren kissed Armin’s nose, making his knees almost give out right then and there. “This’ll be fine. Yeah, all of this is—”

The sound of Erwin and Levi’s car pulling into the driveway rumbled in Armin’s ears, and all the color left Eren’s face. “Nevermind. I’m gonna piss again.”

“Just breathe. In and out.” Eren did, and Armin cupped his face and pecked his forehead. “There you go. Keep doing that for me.”

Eren’s face flushed even deeper. “I’m gonna faint.”

“I’m right here with you.”

“Exactly.”

The door swung open, and Armin immediately stood upright, taking back his hands and giving his parents a pained smile. From the confused looks on their faces, either Eren was still hyperventilating, or they were just surprised to see him over again without anyone there. Armin prayed it was the latter. “Hi, guys.”

“...Hi,” Erwin said after a moment of silence, clearing his throat. Levi thinned his lips. “Er, it’s nice to see you again, Eren. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Eren said sheepishly. “Sorry for the trouble.”

Levi waved his hand. “When did we say there was any trouble?” Eren opened his mouth, but he just continued with, “You need to relax, kid. You’re fine.”

Armin gave Eren a small smile that said, told you so, and his shoulders finally lost at least a bit of the tension that had been stewing for the past thirty minutes he’d been here. “How was your walk?”

“The weather’s lovely today,” Erwin said, closing the door and cutting off the cool air from outside. Levi tossed his car keys into the bowl on the side table and started shrugging off his coat. “You and Historia should really join us one of these days. We saw so many cats.”

“But they were gross cats. Not like Freya,” Levi clarified. Armin snorted.

“And here’s the same one that swore up and down he wouldn’t let her ‘manipulate him’ into liking her.”

“I only like her because she’s clean.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, Pa.”

“Are you guys hungry?” Erwin asked. “We were planning on making salad for lunch, but if you want anything else—”

“Actually,” Armin interrupted, his eyes flickering to Eren, who gave him a small nod of encouragement. “Er, we were wondering if we could talk to you two for a quick sec?”

“About what?”

“Something we’d like to tell you.”

Levi and Erwin shared a knowing glance, and Levi crossed his arms. There it was. “Can you tell us in the kitchen? Because I’m starving.”

“Anywhere’s fine,” Eren said. Levi nodded, then beckoned them to follow him and Erwin through the kitchen door. Armin held out his hand, and when Eren took it to help himself stand, he didn’t let go. He gave him a questioning look, but all Armin did was shoot him a reassuring smile. Contrary to what Eren must’ve thought, Armin’s heart rate had begun to climb to concerning heights, and even though all of this was fake, telling his parents about them was still something he wanted to do as perfectly as possible.

And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Eren’s touch, specifically holding his hand, had always done wonders in calming him down in the past, and now was no different. He felt the familiar, electric push and pull of Eren’s thumb against his knuckles, and he did his best to push down the heat starting to simmer beneath his cheeks.

If Levi and Erwin noticed, they didn’t say, Erwin opening the fridge and Levi rummaging through one of the lower drawers. “Erwin, where the hell did you put that one big white bowl we had? I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Here.” Erwin opened one of the cabinets, pulled it out, and handed it to him. “What dressing do you want?”

“Anything, at this point.”

“You check and pick.”

“Fine.” Levi slightly raised his brows and gestured to Armin. “Well? We’re waiting.”

“Er,” Armin coughed, and Eren tightened his grip. You can do this, he told himself. Just say it. No hesitation, no bullshit. Just how they like it. He inhaled. “Okay, so, I know this may come off as a surprise—”

“Mhm.”

“—But Eren and I have been seeing each other again since the end of September,” Armin forced out, and after that, the words just started spilling out of him uncontrollably. “So, yeah. And I want you guys to know that the only reason I was keeping this from you wasn’t because I didn’t want to tell you or anything like that—”

“Oh, we knew, trust me,” Erwin snorted, and Armin’s face felt like it’d basically caught fire, at this point. He had a feeling they’d figured everything out a while ago, but actually having that confirmation was even more embarrassing than he could’ve imagined. Levi’s gaze moved from him to their entangled hands, his eyes widening. Armin didn’t even need to look in Eren’s direction to know that he’d started sweating again. “You weren’t exactly, how do I put this—”

“We knew the second you came back home that one time,” Levi said bluntly. “When was it, Erwin? The party?”

“The masks, darling.”

Levi cocked his head, as if in thought. “Not the masks. Connie’s place.”

“He went to the masks first, though, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he came back from Connie’s place, not Historia’s.”

“True.” Erwin shot Armin and Eren a grin. “So, there you go.”

Armin blinked. Slowly. He glanced at Eren, who looked just as shocked as he felt. “You guys knew since then?”

“Didn’t take a lot to figure it out,” Levi said. “Your face was all red and you had this little smile all the way until you saw us. And then there was that other time—”

“Two other times, actually,” Erwin interrupted. 

“Mhm. When he came over to swim and on your birthday.” Levi shook his head. “Seriously, guys, if you wanted to keep it a secret, you could at least put in a bit more effort into the whole act. Even Hange was calling us with questions.”

That was what made Armin want to jump off a cliff. Hange was a family friend and taught the biology and chemistry classes at university, meaning that they saw him at least once everyday, and, by extension, Historia and the others. But Armin rarely saw Eren when he went to class anyways, given their completely different majors and schedules, and the only time he’d seen Eren on campus during their arrangement was when they’d run into each other unexpectedly at the local café right before fall break. He didn’t think they’d been that obvious, just talked with a few small smiles and promised to text each other later, but he’d seen Hange right outside after that, so they must’ve spotted them through the window, or something. To think that they’d call his parents about it, however, made him realize that maybe Historia and Mikasa really hadn’t been kidding about him needing to keep himself in check around other people. 

“Hange was calling you?”

“Oh, don’t worry, they didn’t even tell us they saw you with anyone. Just that you looked a bit more giggly than usual.” Levi nodded at Eren, whose cheeks had basically morphed into crimson. “Again, it didn’t take that much to put two and two together.”

“Well,” Armin squeaked. “That’s— yeah.”

“Your faces are so red right now,” Erwin said, his lips thinned in the way Armin knew he was giving it his all not to burst out laughing. “Oh, come on, you guys weren’t even this freaked out when you told us the first time.”

“That was different,” Armin muttered. “Like, way different. It can’t even be comparable.”

“If that’s what you want to believe, Armin.”

“Seriously, what did you think was going to happen?” Levi asked with a sigh. “Anyways. I think I can speak for both of us when I say it’s about fucking time.”

“We were this close to staging an intervention,” Erwin said seriously, and now Armin was fighting the urge to laugh. “The only reason we didn’t was because Mikasa threatened to kill us.”

Eren shook his head with a grin. “Of course she did.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Levi clarified. “Erwin was the one about to shit his pants.”

“Any sane person would, Levi.”

“You’re ten times her size.”

“And she could throw me over her shoulder with absolutely no effort.”

“Hmmm.”

“That’s not the point right now,” Erwin grumbled, and Levi patted his arm with a small, amused smile. “We’re happy for you both, really. Now all you have to do is tell Hange and we’re good.”

“I’ll do it when I see them next,” Armin said, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck with a frown. The smiles on his parents’ faces were exactly the reason he hadn’t wanted to tell them in the first place; now he’d gotten their hopes up, and when there was no need for the arrangement anymore, they’d have to go through the same shit with him just like last time. But at least he didn’t have to walk on eggshells around them any longer. That was the only good thing to come out of this. “Thanks for not throwing a fit or anything.”

“Again, why would we throw a fit?”

“Almost all our friends did,” Eren told them. “I thought Mikasa was gonna bash both our heads into the wall, or something.”

Huh? Armin raised a brow. “What do you mean? She seemed fine when I talked to her.”

“That’s ‘cause you talked to her after I did,” Eren said. Armin then remembered the sweat rolling down Eren’s face right after he’d called her in the kitchen, and could kind of guess what exactly she’d said to him. “Then again, you’re her favorite, so she probably would’ve been a lot gentler if you were the one who called her first.”

Armin had to fight a smile at that. “I’m not her favorite. She doesn’t have favorites.” 

“It’s really not that big of a secret, ‘Min,” Eren teased, nudging his shoulder. “But it’s okay. I get it.”

“You see what I mean?” Levi muttered, and Erwin chuckled. “So fucking obvious. They’re not even trying. ”

“Pa,” Armin sighed. “We literally told you, like, three minutes ago. There’s no need to hide anything anymore.”

“This is just one of many times, Armin, don’t get it twisted,” Levi said. Armin opened his mouth to retort, but he cut him off with, “Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

“Er, that’s about it.”

“Good.” He opened one of the drawers and furrowed his brows. “Now where the hell is that cutting board…”

Armin took that as his cue to lead him and Eren out of the kitchen, leaving his parents to do their salad-making. When they made it back to the living room, Eren suddenly grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss, Armin gasping at first, but leaning into it almost immediately, his fingers grasping at Eren’s back like they were made to fit there. They seperated after a few blissful moments, and Eren was grinning. 

“What was that for?” Armin asked breathlessly. Eren rested their temples together, his hands still cupping Armin’s face.

“Does there need to be a reason?”

“Well, no,” Armin mumbled, forcing himself not to take those words to heart. “I guess not.”

“I’m just happy. That’s all,” he whispered. “Happy that I’m with you and happy that I can do this whenever I want.”

But things won’t stay like this forever, so why? Armin forced a smile. “You really are such a sap.”

“I’m not being that sappy.”

“Mhmmmmm.” Armin kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m happy to be with you, too.”

“Well, I’d hope so,” Eren said, and Armin laughed. “Would kinda suck if you weren’t.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” Armin mused. Then an idea suddenly popped into his head. “Hey, do you want to play on the Wii? It’s been so long.”

Eren’s eyes practically lit up, and Armin was instantly glad he’d asked. “You still have it?”

“Of course.”

“Then you don’t have to ask me twice,” Eren said gleefully, grabbing Armin’s hand and sprinting to the TV room. “ We’re so playing tennis.”

“And bowling,” Armin added. 

“And golf. And baseball.”

“So everything?”

“Obviously.”

𑁤

The next few days were spent relatively normally, Armin supposed. Surprisingly, the only prying his parents had done was ask him a few light questions right after Eren had left on Sunday, which, thankfully, weren’t a lot. Monday, he’d broken the news to Mikasa and Historia over a shared phone call. Mikasa was happy that he’d told them, yet still a bit wary about them knowing so early; Historia, on the other hand, was downright ecstatic, mostly because she could finally make all her jokes and comments in front of them without forcing herself to hold back. Armin knew that keeping the secret had taken a bit of a toll on her, too. Not being able to tell their parents something was kind of alien to her, because she told them basically everything, and Armin was grateful for her efforts in resistance. There had almost been a few slip-ups, sure, but she’d done better than what he’d thought she would in the first place.

Unfortunately for him, his and Eren’s conflicting schedules had made it basically impossible to see each other during the weekdays, and it wasn’t until now that he realized how much of their time spent together last year had relied almost completely on the fact that they’d been living in the same apartment. Between all of Armin’s morning classes, Eren’s afternoon ones, and preparation for their upcoming midterms, a good morning and goodnight text was the most Armin was going to be able to get until the weekend. So when Bertholdt had suggested that they all go study together at their favorite café on Friday evening, he couldn’t have agreed faster enough.

He tightened his grip on the tote bag slung over his shoulder and glanced warily at the clouds beginning to form overhead. Historia had told him that every weather outlet said there wouldn’t be any rain today and not to bring an umbrella, though Armin wasn’t so sure about that. The air had a musky odor to it, tinging his nose whenever he breathed in, and the wind was picking up by the second. If it really did end up raining, they could just wait it out in the café until it closed at eight. He checked his watch. It was almost six-thirty, so that gave them an hour-and-a-half. Hopefully all this was just some stupid prediction in his head like Historia had said, because his car was parked on the other side of campus and he really didn’t want to run all the way back there in the rain with his laptop and notebook.

The bell above the door rang as he stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning the room before they landed on his friends sitting on multiple tables they must’ve pushed in the corner. Sasha and Mikasa were snuggled up on the far end of the cluster, Sasha snoozing away while Mikasa wrote something down in her notebook. Connie and Jean were discussing something in hushed tones, Jean pointing repeatedly to Connie’s computer. Marco, Historia, and Bertholdt were studying independently, and Eren was sitting at the other end of the table, his earphones plugged in as he typed away on his laptop. Armin’s heart did a small somersault in his chest. He wondered where Ymir, Reiner, Hitch, and Annie had gone, but then remembered that Hitch and Annie had said they were probably not going to make it. Then he saw Reiner and Ymir at the front near the cashier, arguing while looking at the pastries behind the glass, which told him all he needed to know. 

Eren was so focused that he didn’t notice Armin making his way over, but when he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, he looked up, grinning in milliseconds. Before Armin could say anything, Eren wrapped him into a hug so tight he thought his spine was going to break in half. “Armin.”

“Hi,” Armin squeaked, his voice muffled in Eren’s shirt. His fingers dug into his back, and, very quietly, he said, “I missed you.”

“Me, too. You have no idea how much.” Eren pulled away and kissed his lips lightly. “D’you want me to get you anything? Ymir and Reiner are about to order for everyone.”

Armin shook his head. “It’s fine. I already had, like, three cups of coffee today.”

“This is why I keep telling you to switch your class timings,” Eren grumbled, pulling a chair beside him for Armin to sit in. He did and placed his tote bag on the floor next to his feet. “How the hell have you not exploded or some shit?”

“I think my body’s just grown used to the caffeine, at this point,” Armin chuckled quietly. “What are you working on?”

“A stupid analysis thing on ideologies,” Eren sighed. Armin peered at his screen and grinned.

“That doesn’t look like an analysis, Eren.”

“Okay, I was working on it. Then I got bored.”

“So you’re looking up pictures of purple flowers?” Armin asked, and Eren blushed. He kissed his cheek, relishing at how hot Eren’s skin felt against his lips. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. They’re pretty.”

“It’s for my mom,” Eren muttered. “And, uh, you.”

Armin blinked. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Eren coughed. He switched the tab, this time showing Armin a bouquet of sunflowers. “These ones reminded me of you.”

Armin felt his pulse begin to rise, and he hoped Eren couldn’t see the heat simmering beneath his face. “It’s because they’re yellow, isn’t it?”

“Not just because.” Eren pecked the side of his head. “C’mon, they give off your aura.”

“My aura?”

“Yeah. You’re like the sun, or whatever.”

“Could you guys stop being so grossly into each other for, like, five minutes?” Historia asked in exasperation. Armin hadn’t even noticed she’d stopped working. “I can’t study like this.”

“That’s like asking them not to breathe,” Connie told her with a smirk, breaking off whatever argument he and Jean were getting into.

“Unfortunately for us.”

“Sorry,” Armin muttered, avoiding Eren’s gaze. You’re like the sun. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Just act like everything was normal and those four words hadn’t made all his insides melt into jelly?

“I actually blame Eren for this one.”

“Hey.”

Ymir and Reiner came back to the table a moment later, Reiner holding a few cookies in one hand and an iced coffee in the other, while Ymir had a drink carrier filled with four normal ones. She handed one to Historia and Eren and slid the other two down the table, Jean catching them right before they tipped over and spilled everywhere. “You bitches are so lucky I was with Reiner. He messed up the orders twice.”

“I didn’t!” Reiner protested. “You were the one—”

“If you guys are gonna argue, do it outside,” Marco interrupted. “None of us have time for this.”

“Whatever,” Ymir muttered. “But if they still messed up the order, it’s his fault.”

“You know what—” Reiner took the empty seat beside Bertholdt, who hadn’t even looked up from his work. Ymir stuck his tongue out at him and sat next to Historia. “The day you die is the day nature sings our praises.”

“Amen to that,” Eren said. Ymir bonked the top of his head with her pencil. “Ow.”

Armin snorted and took out his laptop, notebook, and mechanical pencil. “Are you gonna be able to focus?”

“I can focus,” Eren muttered. “As long as she doesn’t hit me again, we’re good.”

“I won’t if you stop saying stupid shit,” she retorted.

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Mhm.”

Thankfully, they calmed down after that, and Armin was actually able to get a bit of work done. About twenty minutes into his notes, Eren had started fiddling with Armin’s free hand, sending heightened sparks all throughout his body. That had been a particular habit he’d developed back in high school; Armin was ambidextrous, but he preferred writing with his left hand. Eren was right handed, so he’d always play with Armin’s fingers or just hold his free hand as he took notes when he got bored or couldn’t focus. Whenever Armin had asked him about it, he’d always say that it helped him “get back on track,” in his own words, and even though Armin didn’t really understand it, the touch was welcomed all the same. 

At some point, heavy drops of water began to rumble against the roof of the café, and Armin grimaced. “There it is.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Historia groaned. “Damn it. All those idiots on the TV were such liars.”

“I tried to tell you.” 

“Maybe it’ll stop soon?” Sasha tried; she’d woken up a few minutes ago, courtesy of Mikasa’s kisses to her head and cheek. “We still have a bit before this place closes.”

“I dunno,” Bertholdt murmured. “Sounds like a thunderstorm is starting.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Thank God I parked right outside,” Jean said. “Imagine having to run through this shit.”

“I don’t need to imagine, because I’m going to have to if this keeps up,” Armin groaned.

“Shit. How far?”

“Er, seven minutes?”

“Why?”

“It’s my usual spot! And there was a lot of traffic. But it’s fine.”

“Uh, no,” Eren cut in. “I’m not letting you run in freezing cold rain for almost ten minutes straight. That’s like asking to get sick.”

“I could drop you,” Mikasa offered, but Armin shook his head.

“Thanks, but it’s okay. I’m not gonna leave my car here overnight.”

“Still, ‘Min, the rain’s getting worse.”

Eren nudged Armin’s foot, his voice low when he said, “You can stay at my place for a bit. It’s only a minute away if we run.”

Armin’s brows pulled together. “Are you sure? Seriously, Eren, I can—”

“‘Min, it’s okay,” Eren laughed. “I was gonna ask anyway. With or without the rain.”

Armin’s breath hitched, but he managed a small smile. “Is that so?” 

“I mean, I haven’t seen you in, like, five days, so forgive me for wanting to do something.”

“Then I’d be more than happy to.”

They pushed the tables back in their original positions ten minutes before closing time, and Armin braced himself for the cold as they made their way to the door. Not even three seconds after they stepped outside, Eren laced his hand with Armin’s and dragged him in the direction of his apartment. Armin stole one last glance at the others with a grin; Ymir was attempting to cover a cackling Historia with her hands, Sasha and Mikasa were running to their car arm-in-arm, and Connie, Reiner, Bertholdt, Jean, and Marco were sprinting in the direction of Jean’s car, yelling one last goodbye in Armin and Eren’s direction before they slammed the doors shut. 

“Holy shit, it’s pouring!” Eren yelled, and Armin laughed. “Don’t stop running!”

“I wasn’t planning to!”

Armin had to grab his tote bag from the bottom to shield its contents from the water, but it didn’t stop Eren and the frankly terrifying speed he was hurdling them at. Armin was struggling to keep up, moving his legs as fast as they could go, but to his relief, they tumbled into the lobby, then practically flung themselves into the closing elevator moments later, both of them panting harshly as they tried to catch their breaths. Then Eren started to laugh.

“Are you okay?” he asked between wheezes, and then Armin was giggling, too, leaning against him in an attempt to catch some balance. Armin grabbed onto Eren’s arm and winced at the cold seeping through his wet clothes. “Oh my God, that was horrible.”

“I know,” Armin said. “It’s a miracle we weren’t struck by lightning, or something.”

”I dunno, ‘Min, your hair does look a little staticky,” Eren teased, grabbing a few strands of Armin’s wet hair between his fingers.

Armin rolled his eyes fondly and smacked his hand away. “Uh huh. C’mon, let’s go up. Standing around in wet clothes is probably really bad.”

Once they were on Eren’s floor, he guided Armin by the hand in the direction of his apartment. “You can use the shower as soon as we’re in. Better to get warm sooner than later.”

Armin frowned. “What about you?”

“I’ll just change.”

“But it’s cold.”

“And you’ll catch one if you stay like this.”

“So will you.”

“Well, there’s not exactly much we can do, Minnie.”

Armin stepped into the apartment, immediately taking off his shoes, socks, and tote bag and putting them beside the door so that he didn’t get the floor wet. Eren did the same. “Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“How big is the shower again? Just so I know where to put the wet clothes.”

Eren thought for a moment. Then his eyes widened. “It’s not that small. We could… you know.”

“We could?”

Eren visibly swallowed. “Shower together.”

“Oh.” Armin blinked, heat creeping into his face in spite of his lowering temperature. Shower. With Eren. As in, take off all their clothes, get into a small space… together…

I’m going to die, he thought.

“It’s just a stupid suggestion,” Eren said quickly, but the cogs were already turning in Armin’s head. “Uh, shit, I don’t even know why I just said that. Look, we don’t have to—”

“I mean, it’s logical,” Armin blurted out. “And it’s not like we haven’t done it… before… so it wouldn’t be weird. It’s not weird, right? ”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s not weird at all. But you’re okay with it?”

Armin nodded. “Mhm. Like I said, it’s logical. If I go in and you stay out, you’ll catch a cold, and if you go in and I stay out, it’s the same thing.”

“And if we both stay out, we’ll both catch a cold.”

“See? You’re getting it.”

“And it’s practice, in a way,” Eren said, a hint of a smile on his face. “Couples shower together all the time. And stuff. So there’s that.”

Armin’s lips quirked up. “So there’s that.”

They shuffled to the bathroom together in perfect step, Armin feeling his heartbeat climb at the sound of Eren shutting the door behind them. They stared at each other for a moment, not quite sure what to do, before Eren cleared his throat. “So—”

“We could, er, turn around?” Armin said. Then they started giggling. “Oh my God, what are we doing?”

“I wish I knew,” Eren mused. “C’mon, turn around, ‘Min. No peeking.”

Armin’s cheeks bloomed pink. “I wasn’t going to peek.”

“Mhmm.” He smirked and moved his forefinger in a circle. “Come on.”

Armin sighed and turned, trying not to feel self-conscious as he slowly stripped himself bare. It wasn’t as if Eren hadn’t seen him naked before; he had on so many occasions it would take forever to count. But obviously, things were different now. He imagined Eren’s face twisted into a look of disgust at the sight of him, then he squashed that mental picture before it could fester and cause him to stop this whole thing altogether. This was just so that neither of them would get a cold; they weren’t going to do anything, so whether or not Eren still found him attractive wasn’t any of his concern. It was fine. All of this was going to be fine.

“Armin.” Eren’s voice snapped him back to reality. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” Armin said. He heard Eren take a step forward, and that’s when he faced him, careful not to let his eyes drop too far down. 

Eren gave a small smile. “Let’s get in, you’re shivering.”

Eren helped him into the shower and turned on the water, cold at first, but quickly settling into warm relief that spilled all over Armin’s hair and body. Eren shook his head, spraying water droplets all over the place with his hair, and Armin playfully swatted his shoulder.

“Here,” he chuckled, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and pouring some of it into his hands. “Do you want me to wash your hair for you?”

“Yeah, actually. Please,” Eren murmured. Still facing him, he dipped his head forward, and as soon as Armin gingerly threaded his hands through brown locks, his eyes slid shut. “Mmm.”

“Good?” Armin rubbed the product into the back of his skull, mildly scratching the skin there, and he could see the outline of Eren’s eyes rolling to the back of his head through his eyelids. 

“Really good.” He was letting out little whiny, raspy noises, his breath tickling the curve of Armin’s cheek. Armin grinned and moved his hands right behind Eren’s ear, flicking the patch of skin that drove him absolutely crazy. Eren barely opened his eyes, but Armin could see them trailing down his neck and chest.

“What happened to no peeking?” he faux-tutted. Red flickered against Eren’s cheeks, and satisfaction pooled in Armin’s belly.

“I wasn’t.”

“Mhmmm.” Armin kept massaging Eren’s head for a bit, letting the shampoo cover every inch of hair. He was pretty sure the other boy was on the verge of sleep, from the way his breathing slowed and his eyes closed again, so he flicked the side of his head. “Don’t pass out on me, Jeager.”

“You can’t do that and expect me not to,” Eren grumbled, but he relented anyway, pulling away from Armin and squeezing out the shampoo underneath the spray of water. “Damn. My hair’s gonna be so silky when I put in the leave-in conditioner.”

Armin grinned. “Since when did you use leave-in conditioner?”

“That’s what happens when you grow your hair out.” Eren pointed to the bottle on one of the shelves outside the shower. “It’d break otherwise.”

“Do you want me to do that for you, too?”

Eren turned away, but Armin could see how red the tips of his ears were. “After we get out. C’mere, it’s your turn.”

It took a lot less time for Eren to finish with Armin’s hair, considering how much shorter his was, but he made sure to massage Armin’s head just as thoroughly as he’d done to him, the presses to the side of his head and neck making Armin so blissed out he nearly fell asleep himself. The sudden splash of water to his face woke him up, and he turned to glare at Eren, who was trying (and failing) to hide his obvious laugh with his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing,” Armin said, but his voice was layered with fondness. Eren shook his head and kissed Armin’s cheek.

“Sorry, love, I couldn’t resist.”

“You couldn’t resist splashing me?”

“You’re just so… splash-able.”

“There’s another word to add to your made up vocabulary,” Armin mused. “We should honestly start keeping track, because I’ve lost count, at this point.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Eren told him. “It’s spontaneous. It’s genius.”

“Sure, Eren,” Armin snorted, reaching up to chastely kiss the corner of Eren’s mouth. Eren tilted his head and pressed their lips together, his hand coming up to rest against the curve of Armin’s cheek. 

“‘Min,” Eren whispered into the tiny space between them once he broke away, so tender and low that it made Armin melt. “You warmed up yet?”

“The water helped.” A beat passed, then, “And you.”

Eren chuckled and gave him another quick kiss on the lips. “When we’re done you can take my clothes, okay? And we can watch a movie if you want. I think it’s still raining.”

“Okay,” Armin murmured. They were peacefully quiet for the rest of the shower, which was more than okay, in Armin’s opinion, and actually managed to clean themselves through it. Eren was the one to step out first, wrapping a towel around his waist before he handed one to Armin. The air in the hallway prickled against his skin in contrast to the steam they’d been sitting in for almost half-an-hour, but the sensation was nice, not at all biting like the cold they’d had to endure in the rain outside. Eren gently led him to the bedroom by the hand and let him pick out which clothes he wanted, even after his many attempts of protest. He ended up in one of Eren’s red hoodies and gray sweatpants, and Eren slipped on a pair of black pajama pants and a loose white T-shirt. 

Right before they sat on the couch, Armin remembered what he’d said back in the shower. “Do you still want me to put in the conditioner?”

“Oh, shit, yeah, thanks for reminding me.”

He sprinted to the bathroom and grabbed the bottle as well as the hairbrush on the sink. When he got back, he kissed the underside of Eren’s jaw. “Can you sit on the floor for me?”

Eren did, and Armin sat criss-crossed on the couch behind him, pouring a gracious amount of conditioner on his palm before he took Eren’s damp hair and started to stroke the product through it. The leave-in conditioner was new, but this routine was one Armin had become familiar with over the years. After a shower, Eren would oh so subtly ask him to play with his hair, and Armin would sit him down and brush it until he was practically purring in his lap. A wave of affection suddenly hit him at the sight of Eren’s eyes already beginning to droop, and he couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss his cheek. Eren smiled, and he did it again, and again, and again.

“That tickles, Armin,” he giggled. Armin nudged the side of his head with his nose and began brushing through Eren’s hair, starting from the bottom and slowly working his way up to the top. 

“I can braid it for you, if you want. It’s gotten so long.”

“Yeah,” Eren said quietly. Armin brushed for a bit longer, and after getting through all the tangles, began separating Eren’s hair into three equal parts. It’d notably been a while since he’d braided anyone’s hair, but years worth of practice on Historia and Mikasa had made the process basically muscle memory for him. He left it a little loose because of how wet Eren’s hair still was, and used a stray strand to tie it at the bottom. 

“Is it too tight?”

“Nope. It’s perfect, actually,” Eren said. He grabbed Armin’s hand and began pressing little kisses to the tips of his fingers, the brush of his lips soft and warm against Armin’s skin. “Thank you.”

Armin swallowed and looked away. “Er, yeah. Anytime.”

“Your face is really red right now.”

Armin furrowed his brows. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So me kissing your hands gets you more flustered than showering with me?” Eren grinned. “Noted.”

“Whatever you want to believe, Eren,” Armin muttered. Eren hoisted himself up beside him on the couch and pressed a few kisses all over his face.

“Aw, ‘Min, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You look cute when you blush.”

Armin knew he was going to be replaying that sentence about a million times before he went to sleep, but he pushed the thought away, instead trying for a smile that he hoped didn’t look too much like a grimace. “And you flatter me too much.”

“It’s not flattery when it’s true, Armin.”

“Actually—”

Thunder suddenly boomed from outside, loud enough to rattle the entire apartment, and he practically jumped, almost hitting Eren in the process. “Holy shit.”

“You’re kidding me,” Eren groaned, looking a little spooked himself. “Shit. I thought it’d be stopping by now.”

“Yeah, there’s no way it’s stopping anytime soon,” said Armin, the plop plop plop of water hitting the building becoming harsher by the second. “I wouldn’t be surprised if my car was flooded right now.”

Eren leaned back and grabbed his phone from the other end of the couch with a frown. “I just got a storm warning telling everyone to stay inside.”

“It’s that bad?”

More thunder. Eren nodded to the window, water continuously splattering against the glass. “They’re saying it’s gonna continue all night, too.”

“Oh.” They shared a glance. “Well—”

“You could just stay here,” Eren said quickly, like he’d been mustering up the courage to ask him that all evening. Armin fought a smile. “If you want. Uh, yeah.”

“Now look who's getting all flustered,” Armin said with a grin, and Eren’s cheeks reddened. “You know, if you wanted me to stay over in the first place, you could’ve just asked me before we got here.”

“Shut up,” Eren muttered. “I thought you’d say no.”

“Why would I say no?”

“I don’t know. Like, maybe you just would, or something.”

“Eren,” Armin sighed. He cupped his face and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.”

Eren’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Of course. Again, why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s not too weird?” Eren asked, turning his head away. “You did last time, but that was just ‘cause you were sick. I didn’t think you’d actually, uh, want to, under different circumstances.”

Idiot, Armin thought fondly. Little did he know Armin had been patiently waiting for him to ask that very question ever since he’d stayed over the first time, and had been extremely close to suggesting the idea himself. It was pouring outside, anyways, so that would’ve been a perfectly good excuse had things must have come to that. “Eren, I want to. I swear. It’s not like I have much of a choice, either, considering…” he trailed off, eyes darting to the window. Eren pursed his lips.

“You’re sure it’s not just ‘cause it’s raining outside?”

“Yes.” Armin hesitated, then took a deep breath. He’ll just think I’m saying this for practice, or something. It’s fine. “I want to be with you.”

Eren blinked. “You wanna be with me?”

“Here,” Armin coughed. “I want to be with you here.”

“Well, yeah,” Eren smiled after a beat of silence, though Armin noticed it was a bit more stiff than usual. “Okay. And I’m assuming you also wanna sleep next to me…”

“Yes, Eren,” Armin chuckled. 

“Then I guess it’s all settled,” Eren said innocently, but Armin could see the small quirk in the corner of his mouth. “You should probably tell Levi and Erwin where you are before they start freaking out.”

“Probably,” Armin muttered, leaning forward and taking his phone from where it sat on the coffee table. 

Armin 

Hi Pa

Just wanted to let you know that I’m staying at Eren’s

It’s too bad outside for me to drive

“Aw, hell,” Eren groaned. Armin raised a brow at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Eren pointed to the TV, then to the remote that was now in his hand. “Every time I try to turn it on, it doesn’t even load.”

“Did you press and hold the button?”

“Yes.”

Armin clicked his tongue. “Then it must be from the rain. The storm’s so bad it’s cutting off the connection.”

“Dammit,” Eren grumbled. He kissed Armin’s cheek. “Sorry, ‘Min. Guess there’s gonna be no movie tonight.”

“It’s fine. I’m already getting tired, anyway, so I’d probably just end up sleeping through it if we did watch anything.” He then felt his phone vibrate against his thigh.

Pa 🧡(just now, 9:06 p.m.)

i figured

stay safe

lmk if u end up changing anything

love u

Armin

❤️

“What’d they say?”

“Levi was expecting it, apparently,” he mumbled. “It is pouring outside.”

Eren snorted. “Uh huh. Here,” he grabbed Armin’s hands and helped him off the couch. “I can see you fighting to keep your eyes open.”

“Okay, when I said I was tired, I didn’t mean I was that—” he cut himself off with a yawn. Eren gave him a look, and he grimaced. “It’s like my body is actively trying to betray me.”

“Or it’s trying to get you to sleep, which you should do.”

“Can I at least brush my teeth first?” 

“‘Course. I think I have an extra toothbrush around somewhere…”

Thankfully, Eren did end up finding one in one of the bathroom cabinets, and they both brushed their teeth side-by-side in front of the mirror. It made Armin’s heart warm, but also made him want to scream and cry and bang his head against the wall, reminding him of all the nights spent in this very bathroom doing the same exact thing before they went to sleep one year ago. 

He couldn’t help but think that maybe things would have still been this way if he’d hesitated that night. Even for a split second. Maybe there would be a ring on his finger, too, light glistening off it as he moved his arm back and forth.

Get a hold of yourself, he thought, snapping himself back to reality. This is your fault. There’s no point in thinking about the what-ifs.

It’s done.

When they were finally finished, Armin frowned as Eren led him down the hall to the bedroom. “You know you don’t have to go to bed just because I’m tired, right? It’s pretty early.”

“How many times have I told you that I don’t just do things I don’t wanna do?” Eren sighed, letting go of Armin for a moment to pull back the covers. “I’m here ‘cause I wanna be with you, too, okay? No other reason than that. I don’t know why you’d think otherwise.”

“I’m just making sure—” 

“Armin.”

He held his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,” Eren smiled. He sat on the bed and patted the empty space beside him. “C’mere.”

Slowly, Armin climbed onto the bed, and when Eren pulled the covers over them, their faces were so close Armin could practically taste the minty toothpaste on Eren’s tongue. For a few minutes, the only sounds filling the air between them were the rise and fall of their chests, the thunder, and the raindrops hitting Eren’s bedroom window. It almost felt too intimate, the way Eren’s gaze kept darting between Armin’s eyes and lips. The way his fingers just barely grazed the back of Armin’s hand.

“Eren?” Armin whispered. 

“Yeah?” 

Swallowing, Armin slightly held up his arm. Even in the dark, he could see Eren’s eyes widen in understanding. Wordlessly, he moved himself into Armin’s space, resting his head against his chest and letting out a small, soft exhale. Armin wrapped both arms around his back, closed his eyes, and breathed in the rosy scent of the conditioner in Eren’s hair. 

Armin had almost slipped away completely when Eren shifted his head and accidentally brushed his lips against his neck, jolting him awake. He felt Eren still for a moment, then felt the press against the hollow of his throat, right above where his pulse rattled underneath his skin.

Well, Armin thought faintly as another kiss was placed to that spot, this might actually be the night I die for real.

And I’d be perfectly fine with it.

Eren started giving harsher kisses along the column of his throat, and Armin tilted his head up to give him better access, his breath catching at a particularly hard press right underneath his jaw. He felt Eren’s grin against his skin.

“Sensitive?”

“No,” Armin tried, but his lungs were so devoid of air any attempt at throwing Eren off was basically pointless. Eren kissed that spot again, and his toes curled in his socks.

“Your heart’s beating so loud,” Eren said. Armin registered how low and husky his voice was. “I can feel it even without kissing you.”

Eren positioned himself right above him, darkened eyes meeting Armin’s. Without a second thought, Armin met him halfway, his hands sliding from Eren’s back to his hair, undoing the braid so he could tangle his fingers in brown locks. Eren whined against his mouth — a sound so lovely Armin could hear it for the rest of his life and never complain — and pressed impossibly closer, as close as he could get, probably, caging him against the bed, and Armin felt his head spin from all the blood rushing to it. 

“Eren, Eren,” Armin breathed, his name repeatedly escaping his mouth as Eren moved back to his neck, open-mouthed kisses trailing down until he reached the lowest patch of skin available, which was his chest. He could feel that familiar heat start to pool in his gut, a borderline moan almost ripping itself loose from his throat before he covered his mouth just in time to stop it. He squeezed his eyes shut. If he didn’t stop things now, well, they were only going to escalate, and as badly as he wanted that, he knew they’d both regret it when they woke up in the morning; Eren didn’t actually have any feelings for him, and he was probably just getting caught up in all the touching and kissing to remember. He didn’t actually want Armin, so letting him do this wouldn’t be fair to either of them. 

It took all of Armin’s willpower to gently push him away. Eren got the message immediately, and he faced Armin again, but this time, his face was filled with panic. “Shit, Armin, I’m so sorry, did I go too—”

“No,” Armin cut in. He gulped. “Eren, it’s not you. I want to— trust me, I do, but you don’t, so it’s best if we just stop.”

Eren blinked, not saying a word for a few moments, before he huffed out a laugh. Then another, and another, until he was practically wheezing against Armin’s chest. “Oh my God.”

Now it was Armin’s turn to panic. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“Do you really think—” Eren rolled off him, and Armin missed his warmth immediately. “Christ. I’m so stupid.”

Armin sat up with a frown. “Why’re you calling yourself stupid? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s not this.” Eren laughed again, but he didn’t exactly sound amused. “I just messed up. That’s all.”

“Okay, but how?”

“Everything, ‘Min,” Eren sighed. “Just everything.”

Armin reached for his hand. “I’m not quite, er, following, but I’m sure whatever it is, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Nah. My life is ruined.”

“Eren, what did you do?”

Eren gave him a sad smile. “Probably the best and worst decision I’ve ever made. Don’t worry about it, ‘Min. I’m fine. Just… ugh.”

“If you want to talk about it—”

“You know what would help?” Eren asked suddenly.

“What?”

He squeezed Armin’s hand. “You just sitting here with me. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” 

“That’s all.”

Armin lightly kissed his forehead. “Here.” He draped the covers over them again and pulled the other boy’s back to his chest, his arms resting around Eren’s waist. Eren snuggled up against him, still holding his hand. “You know I’ll stay with you. Always.”

He heard Eren’s breath stutter slightly, then a shaky exhale. “Me, too.” A beat of silence, and then, “Armin?”

“Hm?”

“We should make this a regular thing. You staying over,” Eren murmured. “Like every Friday or something like that, so I can see you at least, you know? With midterms and everything. There’s only a week and a bit left.”

Armin couldn’t help the grin that formed on his face, even if he tried. 

“I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

“Historia, where do you want me to put the wood?”

Armin hissed as one of the logs escaped his grasp, tumbling onto the grassy floor of his parents’ backyard and almost tipping into the pool. Other than his already clumsy grip, the cold biting into his fingers and the absence of his sister wasn’t exactly helping his little predicament. “Historia!”

“I’m here, I’m here!” she panted, running through the open sliding door and stopping right in front of him. She smirked. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“A little help, please?” he asked in exasperation, and she took a few of the logs from the climbing pile in his hands, relief tugging at his shoulders at the lack of pulling weight. “Finally.”

“I don’t know why you even attempted to do this yourself,” she mused, dumping her logs into a pile farther away from the pool. “Last year—”

“Don’t even.” He added the rest of the logs to the same place she’d put hers. “Did the others say when they were coming?”

“They’re almost here. At least, that’s what Ymir said.”

“Great,” he muttered, his eyes moving back to the pile on the floor. “Hey, could you get the fire burner pit?”

“Fine.” She sprinted in the direction of the shed. “Don’t fucking touch the logs!”

“I wasn’t gonna—” he cut himself off with a laugh at the sight of her almost tripping and falling flat on her face.

Every bonfire they had at his parents house was always chaotic, but nothing could compare to their annual midterm send-off, a tradition that had started with Connie and a lighter in their freshman year of high school. Instead of studying, like they were supposed to be doing, they would set up a fire in Armin and Historia’s backyard the weekend before their exams officially started and wallow in their stress and despair together. For some reason, Erwin and Levi had continuously allowed it, and this year was no different; of course, they’d be staying inside, but at least they were smart enough not to leave the group of them alone in such circumstances. 

A sudden buzz came from his pocket, and he fished his phone out.

Eren ❤️ (just now, 6:45 p.m.)

ok minnie ik ur probs gonna kill me for asking this again but

are u SURE u don’t want me to bring anything?

Armin smiled, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, yet his chest also felt like it was slowly being filled with lead. He’d only seen Eren twice during the last two weeks of studying, stressing, and mental breakdowns, which had been last Friday and yesterday. They’d been keeping up their newly added edition to the arrangement — Armin staying over at Eren’s place once a week — and strange would be one way to put it. Well, strange for Armin. 

To put it plainly, he’d been a little freaked out after their heated moment two weeks ago. He didn’t know what it was, or if that had been the only trigger for his dilemma, but he couldn’t help but think that things had been… different, since then. He didn’t even know what he was feeling, but everything with Eren was starting to feel a lot more intimate than usual. Like, he’d notice Eren’s eyes on him when he thought he wasn’t looking, or feel his heart pounding at frankly concerning rates against his chest whenever he rested his head there, or see him blush whenever Armin so much as looked in his direction. Things that Armin did whenever he and Eren were together. And this could all very well be something he made up in his head, as usual, but he knew things were slowly starting to change. More than they already had, at least.

Or I’m just jumping to conclusions like an idiot, Armin thought as he sighed and typed up a response. 

Armin

YES Eren I swear

It’s literally just us being dumb and not studying

Which we should be doing

But ofc Connie insisted we still go through with the bonfire thing so now we’re here

Eren ❤️

okay but bonfire ASIDE

not even like a bottle of wine or something?

Armin

😭 Eren

The last thing we need is to get drunk right before our midterms

Also my parents are gonna be here so I really don’t think they need to see the others goofing off

Eren ❤️

yeah true that was stupid

um

Armin

It wasn’t stupid, it was thoughtful

Just get over here

That’s all I ask for

Eren ❤️

awww you sap

i’m already omw 

Armin

So hurry

My sister’s being annoying

Eren ❤️

roger that

<3

“Okay, so, this was the only one I could find—” Armin looked up from his phone, and Historia raised a brow. “Why’s your face so red?”

“Shut up. My face isn’t red.” He glanced at the large, dark, metal bowl Historia had put on the floor. “Did you drag that all the way here?”

“Yeah, but you were too focused on texting Eren to notice,” she grumbled. He opened his mouth, but she said, “Don’t even try. Nobody else gets you that flustered.”

“Why do you love torturing me like this?”

She linked their arms together and started dragging him back to the house. “Because you're my brother and it’s my job.”

“Love you too,” he muttered. “Wait, why are you taking me inside?”

“First of all, your lips are turning blue. Second, I need you to distract Pa and Dad while I sneak some beer.”

“Historia.”

He knew she wouldn’t actually end up attempting anything of the sort while their parents were nearby, but he could still see her eyeing the designated alcohol cabinet with a look that meant she was definitely going to loot it later when nobody was looking.

Within another ten minutes, Mikasa, Connie, Sasha, Jean, and Marco piled through the door, Mikasa looking like she’d just gone to hell and back and shooting Armin a glance that said, please help. All he did was snort and kiss her cheek in greeting, then led her and the others outside to start up the fire. After orange light reflected against the grass in contrast to the darkening sky, Ymir ran inside the house and came back with Eren, Reiner, Bertholdt, Hitch, and Annie. 

Armin raised a brow. “Did all of you just, like, carpool together, or something?”

“Yup,” Eren grinned, slinging his arm around Armin’s shoulders and kissing the corner of his mouth. Armin tried not to let the heat of his touch shut down his brain completely.

“And how the hell did all of you fit?”

“Annie sat in my lap, obviously, and Reiner sat in Bertholdt’s,” Hitch snickered. Reiner’s face went beet red, and Ymir immediately started cackling. 

“Please tell me you have a picture. Please.”

“I took it as soon as he got in the car.”

“Thank fuck. I’d kiss you if it wasn’t gay,” Ymir told her. 

Annie glared. “And I’d kill you if you tried.”

“So would I,” Historia piped in, a pout forming on her lips. Ymir prepped a few kisses to her face.

“Aw, baby, you know I’d never actually do it. You’re the only one for me.”

“Hmmm.”

“I can’t watch this,” Armin grimaced, Eren chuckling as they joined Mikasa, Sasha, and Bertholdt at the sight of the bonfire. Mikasa had just finished placing a few chairs from the bar a little bit away from the edges of the fire pit, her hand entangled with Sasha’s, and Bertholdt gave them a small smile before running off to get some more. “This already looks like a terrible idea.”

“I think it’s great, actually,” Connie said from behind him. Armin turned and gave him a look.

“Of course you would think that.”

“Just look at it this way, Armin,” he started. “You’ve been studying non-stop for the past few weeks, your eyebags have multiplied by a thousand—”

“Thanks, Con.”

“—A few hours of relief can’t hurt.”

“As long as you don’t get drunk again, I don’t care.”

“That only happened twice. And it wasn’t just me.”

“Mhmmm.”

“But who’s the one always at the scene of the crime?” Eren asked, a playful smile forming on his lips, and Connie rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. You guys would be bored to death without me.”

“True,” Sasha sighed. He blew her a kiss, and she pretended to catch it in her hand and dramatically place it to her cheek. 

Bertholdt added two more chairs around the bonfire, sealing the little circle they’d created, and the others started taking their seats, the sky fading completely into black. Marco lifted his head. “Huh. I thought the stars would be clearer by now.”

“Just give it a second,” Jean told him. Their hands were tangled together in the space between their chairs. “They’ll be visible by, like, seven-ish.”

“Orion’s belt is supposed to be out tonight,” Armin said excitedly. Ever since he was a kid, he’d loved staring up at the sky and tracing the constellations with his fingers, especially during the winter when they were clearest. Eren nudged his shoulder.

“Which one’s that again?”

“The one with the three stars aligned. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“How the hell do you even spot constellations?” Sasha asked, her eyes squinting at the sky. “They’re all just stars to me.”

“They’re like sky patterns,” Mikasa explained. “That’s what Armin told me. They show up in the same shape over and over again.”

“Still, how do you find the shape?”

Mikasa chuckled lightly. “Okay, that I don’t know.”

“All this shit about stars is making my head hurt,” Hitch grumbled. “Even more than fucking midterms.”

“Shit, don’t remind me,” Reiner groaned. “We’re so fucked.”

“They’re just a bunch of dumb tests. I dunno what the big deal is,” Ymir sighed, lacing her fingers behind her head and leaning back against her chair. Historia smiled in amusement.

“Love, just because you don’t take school seriously—”

“‘Cause it’s stupid. I’m only here for you.”

“Did you even study, like, at all?” Bertholdt asked, looking like he regretted even asking in the first place.

Ymir grinned. “Nope.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, I think we’ll do okay,” Eren muttered. “The bar is in hell.”

“At least it’s almost Christmas,” Connie said wistfully. “That’s the only reason I haven’t gone completely insane. We just have to make it to the eighteenth, then winter break starts, and then we’re fucking done till after new years.”

Jean snorted. “I’m surprised you even studied in the first place.”

“And I’m never doing it again,” Connie shuddered. “It’s disgusting.”

“Studying isn’t that bad if you make it fun,” Armin cut in. Connie looked at him like he’d just insulted his grandma, or something.

“There’s actually no way you just put studying and fun in the same fucking sentence.”

“You’re talking about the same guy who has an entire color-coded binder full of just study tips,” Sasha snickered. Eren cast her a withering look.

“Let him be. There’s a reason he has an A-plus in every class.”

Sasha held her hands in the air, and Armin blushed. “Oh my God, chill, I wasn’t even insulting him.”

“Sounded like it.”

“Eren, it’s fine,” Armin tried. “Not everyone can appreciate being organized, and that’s okay.”

“See? He’s the one insulting me,” Sasha said. Armin grinned.

“I’m not doing anything of the sort.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Wipe that little smirk off your face.”

“Maybe you need the binder, Sash,” Hitch said, Mikasa rubbing the sides of her head as Sasha and Hitch started going back and forth about each other’s studying habits. Armin felt a small tap to his hand, and he faced Eren, who was smiling.

“The constellation you were talking about is out.”

Armin’s eyes lit up. “Orion’s belt?”

“Yeah, that one.” Eren nodded his head to the empty space of grass behind them. “We can lay down and look up, if you want.”

Armin glanced at the others. Ymir, Historia, and Jean had joined in on Sasha and Hitch’s bickering, the topic changing from studying, to food, and to God knew what else. Bertholdt and Reiner had divulged into their own little conversation, smiles and whispers that Armin couldn’t hear being thrown between them, and Marco, Connie, Annie, and Mikasa had gone to grab the pack of marshmallows Armin had set out on the bar earlier. He reached out and squeezed Eren’s hand, the other boy intertwining them almost immediately. “I’d love to.”

They lay down side-by-side, their shoulders brushing, the grass tickling the back of Armin’s neck. Above them, the stars were a lot clearer than they had been earlier, probably because the light from the bonfire wasn’t obstructing their view anymore. Armin’s eyes scanned the sea of twinkling lights, grinning when he spotted the familiar, downwards line shape. “I can see it now.”

“I lost it,” Eren muttered. “Shit. There’s so many.”

“Here.” Armin gently lifted Eren’s hand, warmth tingling the tips of his fingers at the contact to his bare wrist, and guided it right above where the third star sat at the bottom of the constellation.

“It doesn’t even look like a belt,” Eren complained, and Armin softly laughed. “I’m serious! They wasted such a cool name on a boring ass star. No offense.”

“That’s not the whole constellation, Eren,” Armin mused. “It’s just part of it.” He moved Eren’s hand to the left. “You see this one here?”

“Yeah.”

“Think of it as Orion’s right shoulder. Then this one’s his head,” he lifted Eren’s hand slightly upward, then to the left again, “and then the one right next to it is his other shoulder, and then the other stars are his arms and legs. It’s called Orion’s belt because it looks like it’s around his waist.”

He could see the mental picture start to register in Eren’s brain, his eyes narrowing up at the sky. “I can kind of see it, I think.” He pointed to a bright star on the far left. “Which one’s that supposed to be?”

“That’s his sword. It’s lifted, like he’s about to swing it.”

“And this guy is…?”

“A hunter in Greek mythology,” Armin explained. “Zeus made him a constellation after he was killed by a scorpion.”

Eren faced him, the tips of their noses almost brushing against each other. Armin swallowed and tried to slow his breathing. “How come every fucking myth you tell me ends with someone either dying or, like, in total misery?”

“Ancient Greece wasn’t exactly known for being all sunshine and rainbows, let’s put it that way,” Armin mused. “Greek tragedy is called Greek tragedy for a reason.”

“It can’t hurt to have at least one happy story.”

Armin snorted. “I mean, there are probably a few. I can’t think of any, though.”

“Mhmmm. That’s not concerning at all.” Eren kissed his cheek, and it felt as if a million fireworks had suddenly exploded against his skin. “But it’s okay. I’ll tolerate all the sadness if it means hearing you talk.”

Armin’s face blossomed red, and he was suddenly very grateful for the darkness coating them. If they’d been by the bonfire, Eren would’ve noticed how flustered he was immediately. “You can’t just say things like that, Eren.”

“And why not?” Eren asked innocently. Armin could see the smirk on his face, even in the minimal light. “C’mon, ‘Min, tell me.”

“You just can’t.”

“That’s not a valid reason.”

“It is to me.”

Eren laughed, grazed his hand against the curve of Armin’s cheek, and leaned in. His lips barely brushed Armin’s own before he shot up from the grass, almost knocking their heads together in the process. The thought of touching him again made Armin’s hands tremble in that giddy, frantic way they had at the beginning of the arrangement, made his heart thud so loudly against his chest it vibrated throughout his entire body. He’d been able to somewhat hide it before, when things were simpler, easier, but after the little incident from two weeks ago, it was like his entire resolve had crumbled into nothing. The last thing he wanted was Eren somehow feeling it, or noticing it, or something. 

“Er,” Armin coughed, Eren following his movements and sitting up beside him with a concerned frown. Ymir and Reiner started laughing so hard their voices echoed around the backyard. “We should probably rejoin the others. They’re gonna notice we’re gone eventually.”

“Okay,” Eren said slowly, like he was trying to steady himself. He cleared his throat. “Armin?”

“Hm?” Armin made a show of fiddling with the strings of his hoodie, which so happened to be one of Eren’s that he’d accidentally taken home yesterday. He heard the other boy sigh.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Armin met his eyes then, and a horrible tug pulled at his chest at the sight of Eren’s brows pulled together, his mouth trembling slightly in the way he knew Eren was trying to keep himself together. “Of course not, Eren. Why would you think that?”

Eren scoffed, but it wasn’t like the playful ones he did whenever Armin said something funny, or did things he found endearing. Armin felt his heart immediately plummet into his stomach. “Don’t play dumb with me. You’ve been acting weird every time I’ve seen you in the past few weeks, actually.”

“What do you mean, ‘acting weird?’”

“I mean—” Eren huffed in frustration. “You’re doing that thing again. The rigid thing. And like now, you’ll purposefully try to change the conversation or just—leave. Seriously, did I say something wrong? Or do something wrong? Because if I did—”

“Eren, you didn’t do anything,” Armin said firmly.

“Okay, so explain to me why you’re acting weird.”

Armin inhaled deeply. Just breathe. “Do we really have to do this right now?”

“Yes, we do, because we can’t just keep pretending like nothing’s wrong until it all blows over.” Eren frowned and reached for his hand. “Armin, please. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Armin said stiffly, trying to block out any form of emotion from entering his voice. If he let his guard down, or let himself slip, Eren would know. He’d know and all of this, everything they’d managed to rebuild between themselves, would be gone. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if that happened. “I’m just— I have a lot going on, okay?”

“So tell me.”

“I can’t.”

Eren pressed his lips together. “See, that’s the part that I don’t understand.”

“Then I guess that’s just how things have to be.”

“Armin—”

“Leave it, Eren.”

They stared at each other for a moment, never backing down, the air so thick between them Armin could almost reach out and feel it, before Eren huffed and pulled back his hand. Armin tried to not let him see how much that stung, and forced himself to look at the floor. This is the better outcome. Better to let him get mad at me than to find out and stop talking to me altogether.

This is just how it has to be.

“Fine,” Eren muttered. He stood and brushed the dust off his pants. “I’ll fucking leave it, then.”

“Mhm,” Armin said quietly, watching as Eren stomped back to his chair. Mikasa looked at him, then looked at Armin, a concerned frown playing on her lips, but he ignored it, forcing himself up and back into the chair beside him. The others, thankfully, were too caught up in their arguments to notice that they weren’t talking anymore. At least there was that.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, just listening to them bicker and laugh as usual, but the pack of marshmallows they’d started roasting above the bonfire had run out, and after much pleading from Connie and Sasha in particular, he’d opted to go and get another one from the kitchen.

“I’ll go with you,” Mikasa said quickly, and Armin instantly knew that she was going to ask him about Eren. He glanced at the other boy, but he didn’t so much as sneak one look in his direction. It reminded him of how things were before, how they’d purposefully avoid each other’s gazes and not speak a single word to each other, and his stomach twisted into a million tight knots at the thought.

“Er, sure,” he said, giving a pained smile. She linked their arms together as they walked towards the house, Sasha whooping a million thanks as they went. “I really hope we actually do have another one. I was just saying that so they would stop nagging me.”

“Oh my God,” Mikasa snickered as he pulled her through the sliding door. Erwin and Levi weren’t around, so he guessed they’d moved into the TV room. “You really are so evil sometimes, ‘Min.”

“Listen, I’m starting to get a headache, and the last thing I need is those two constantly screaming in my ear.”

“Hmmm. I guess you have a point.”

“You know I do.”

They arrived at the kitchen a few seconds later, and Armin immediately started poking around the back of the pantry. He heard Mikasa tsk behind him. “So…”

“So?” He grabbed a plastic bag, but it turned out to be empty. “Dammit.”

“Did you and Eren fight, or something?” He stayed silent, and she sighed. “I knew it. You look like a kicked puppy.”

“No I don’t.”

“You really do. It’s breaking my heart.” She pulled him back by the shoulders so that he was facing her. “How bad was it on a scale of one to ten?”

 He thought for a moment, remembering how Eren harshly pulled back his hand, and swallowed. “Er, maybe seven?”

“Armin. What the hell happened?”

“I actually don’t know,” he said. Then he scrunched his nose. “Well, no, that’s a lie. I’ve just been, er, really stressed, and he noticed, and then he thought he did something wrong, which he didn’t, and I told him that and he didn’t believe me, and then he asked if something was wrong with me, and I just sort of…” he shrugged. “Told him to leave it?”

Mikasa slowly blinked, looking like she was contemplating whether or not to smack him, shake him, or both, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her one bit. “You know, for all your smarts, sometimes you act like a total fucking idiot.”

“I know.”

“You really don’t,” she muttered. “Jesus, Armin. No wonder he seemed so irritated.”

“But I don’t get why. I mean, it’s my problem, isn’t it?” He pulled away and started rummaging through the pantry again, this time kneeling to focus on one of the lower shelves. “He didn’t do anything. It’s just me.”

“That’s exactly why he’s mad,” she said. “Armin, believe it or not, there are people who genuinely care about you. Namely us.”

“Well, I know that,” he muttered. She flicked the back of his neck, and he winced.

“Most of the time it feels like you don’t. I think he’s more mad at himself than you, though. He probably thinks that you don’t trust him enough to say what’s been bothering you, or that maybe he made you feel like you couldn’t say something, you know?”

“But, again, he didn’t do anything.”

“That’s my point. He doesn’t believe that because you’re acting all closed off. Which is weird, because you guys usually tell each other everything, so of course he’s going to get all sad and shit.”

Armin frowned. “But that’s not what I meant to happen. And it’s not like I don’t want to say what it is. I do. I just can’t.”

“And why is that?”

Finally, his fingers grasped the puffy bag of marshmallows, and he pulled it out. “It’s complicated.” He stood and squeezed her hand. “Thanks for talking sense into me, though. It helped.”

“There’s one good thing, at least,” she muttered, pecking the side of his head before they left the kitchen and made their way back outside. “Just talk to him. Please. For all our sakes.”

“That’s what I was planning to do, Miks.” When they stepped outside, Connie and Sasha’s heads shot up immediately.

“Did you get it?” Connie yelled. Armin waved the pack of marshmallows in the air, and they cheered. 

After giving them the bag, Mikasa gave him one last squeeze to the hand before sitting down beside Sasha, her lips quirked at the corners as she watched her girlfriend and Connie try (and fail) to split the bag into even amounts for everyone. Armin glanced at Eren again, but his eyes were still trained to the ground. Here goes nothing.

“Eren?”

He could see his eyes widen slightly, but he still didn’t look up. “Hm?”

“Can I talk to you for a quick sec?” Armin gently placed his hand atop Eren’s, and that’s when he faced him, his expression softening a bit at the touch. “Alone?”

Eren seemed to ponder this, then he nodded. “Okay.”

Armin led him to the bar, far enough away from the others that they wouldn’t be able to hear him, and frowned. At least Eren had stopped avoiding his eyes, staring at him straight-on with his arms crossed. 

“Well?”

“So,” Armin started, clearing his throat. “First things first, er, I just wanted to say sorry. For earlier.”

“Mhm.”

“I was being a jerk,” he murmured. “And I shouldn’t have brushed you off like that. You have every reason to be upset with me.”

Eren looked at him for another few seconds, before he sighed, wrapped his arms around Armin’s shoulders, and pulled him close. Armin shut his eyes, burying his face in the crook of Eren’s neck and savoring the warmth that coated him like a blanket. “I’m sorry, too, for blowing up.”

“You didn’t really blow up, though.”

“Yeah, I did,” Eren muttered. He moved a hand to Armin’s hair and began to scratch the back of his skull, earning a small groan. “You’re obviously stressed, ‘Min. I just— I didn’t want you to think you had to hide anything from me, you know? But I get it if you don’t wanna say anything. Trying to push you when everyone’s here was wrong.”

Armin kissed his neck. “Eren, it’s never you I’m trying to hide anything from, okay? This is just something I have to figure out on my own.”

“Okay.” Eren squeezed him tightly, rocking them side-to-side in silence for a good few minutes with the occasional press of his lips to the top of Armin’s head. “I really fucking hate fighting with you.”

“Me, too,” Armin whispered, his voice quivering slightly as tears prickled behind his eyelids. Eren pulled back slightly, cupped his face, pecked the tip of his nose, and rested their temples together.

“It’s all good, yeah?” Armin nodded, and Eren moved on to kiss his forehead. “You’re okay?”

“Are you?”

“I’m fine now,” he said quietly. “C’mon. We’re supposed to be having fun tonight, remember?”

Armin laughed and wiped away a stray tear from his cheek. “Uh huh. I think Sasha’s eaten all the marshmallows, already.”

“What?” Eren turned and gasped. “That little—”

“You’d better run,” Armin said, giggling as he watched Eren sprint at the speed of light and practically tackle Sasha to the ground before she could pop the last one in her mouth. Ymir started filming, the others were screaming, Eren’s foot had almost plunged itself into the bonfire, and honestly, Armin hadn’t expected anything less.

“Give it to me right now, you piece of shit!”

“Nuh uh! I had it first!”

“I didn’t even get one!”

They were going to be fine.

𑁤

Armin parked his car right outside the building Eren was having his last midterm in, swinging open the door and stepping outside into the cool air. He closed his eyes and let the biting breeze sting his cheeks for a few peaceful moments.

He’d finally finished all his midterms yesterday, and, for all the stress he’d festered over the past month, he thought they’d gone way better than he’d expected. Over-studying was a habit he’d indulged since middle school, but this year, he’d gone so overkill that all his tests were finished within the first hour of the designated exam time. Other than Historia and Ymir, most of his friends still had at least two midterms left, but Eren was finishing up this afternoon, and Armin had offered to pick him up. Mostly because he missed him, but also because Eren needed some space to put his bags in on the way to the ice-skating rink.

Historia had suggested that they go on some sort of double-date as a way to kick-start their winter break, and while Armin wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about slipping and falling every two seconds, he knew Eren liked it, and he was willing to embarrass himself in front of all the little kids bound to be there if it meant hearing him laugh and having an excuse to hold his hands. Besides, they would only be there for a few hours at most, and he liked to think of it as a pit-stop to the real relaxation later; Erwin and Levi had left until tomorrow for one of Erwin’s business trips right before Armin had made the way over here, and had entrusted him to look after the house while they were gone. He’d figured that it wouldn’t be so bad if he had company — especially if that company was Eren — so he’d asked if he wanted to stay over with him after meeting Historia and Ymir, to which he’d excitedly agreed. His parents hadn’t minded, either; in fact, they encouraged it if it meant he wasn’t wallowing all by himself and doing nothing the whole time.

Suddenly, the doors to the building bursted open, and hundreds of students started piling out, their voices bouncing across the parking lot as groans and complaints about the exam got louder and louder. Armin’s eyes immediately roamed the crowd before they landed on a head of familiar brown hair, and the corners of his mouth quirked up.

“Eren!” he called. It took the other boy a second to notice him, but when he did, a grin overtook his face, and he rushed in his direction, scooping him up in his arms and twirling him in a circle. Armin giggled once he was put back down, about a million kisses being smacked all over his face. “I’m guessing it went well, then?”

“So well,” Eren breathed in-between kisses. “Shit, I’m so happy to see you, you have no fucking idea.”

“I think all the stress has made you, like, ten times more sappy than usual,” Armin snorted, grabbing Eren’s face to stop his movements and kissing him full-on the mouth. Eren let out a surprised noise, then leaned into it, his fingers clutching the back of Armin’s sweater so forcefully he wouldn’t be surprised if little marks were indented into his skin. Armin pulled away with a grin. “But I’m happy to see you, too.”

“We’re never staying away from each other for that long ever again,” Eren declared as Armin laced their fingers together and dragged him to the car. “I’d rather die.”

“You’d rather die?”

“Yes,” Eren said seriously, getting into the passenger’s seat. Armin resisted the urge to kiss him again. “We’re stopping at mine first to get my stuff, right?”

“Mhm. It’d kind of suck if you didn’t have your clothes, considering you barely fit into any of mine,” Armin grinned, backing out of the parking space and making the turn that would take them to Eren’s apartment. The other boy sighed.

“The only thing I hate about being taller than you is I can’t steal any of your clothes anymore. They’re so fucking comfortable.”

“I could always just get you the same stuff in your size.”

“It’s not the same. They wouldn’t smell like you.”

Armin blushed. “They don’t smell like anything.”

“Yeah, they do.” Eren poked his cheek. “Like ocean febreze.”

“Okay, I don’t spray it that much.”

“Sure, ‘Min. I swear I’ve seen you use up a whole ass bottle in one day before.”

“Whatever,” Armin grumbled. He stopped right outside Eren’s apartment. “You have everything packed already, right?”

“Yup.” Eren quickly kissed the corner of his mouth and opened the door. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Don’t rush yourself,” Armin said with a sigh, watching as Eren sprinted into the building. True to his word, he was rushing back out with a duffel bag not even thirty seconds later, throwing it onto the back seats and panting as he buckled in his seatbelt.

“See? Just a sec.”

“You’re sweating,” Armin commented as he brushed a stray hair out of Eren’s face. 

“It’s worth it,” Eren grinned. “Let’s go.”

After lots of begging and pleading, Armin gave the aux cord to Eren five minutes into the drive, and even though the music he put on made his ears want to bleed, he still watched Eren with a smile as he turned down the window and screamed the lyrics at poor, unexpected bypassing cars. That was something he’d been doing ever since they were eight years old, and Armin didn’t have the heart to question it, nor to tell him to stop. Yeah, it was weird, but he somehow managed to find it endearing. 

But maybe that was just because it was Eren. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Eren asked in amusement as they walked to the giant building containing the rink. Their entangled hands swung back and forth in-between them. “The last time you ice-skated was, like, three years ago.”

“Two, actually,” Armin corrected. 

“Same thing.”

“You’re forgetting the extra year, Eren.”

He waved his hand. “That’s not my main concern. Again, if you wanna go back, I won’t judge.”

“I’m actually kind of excited, if I’m going to be honest,” Armin admitted. “Who knows? Maybe I won’t break my pinky-finger this time.”

Eren shuddered. “Don’t joke about that, please. I still remember how fucking bent and angle-y it was—”

“What’s bent and angle-y?” A hand suddenly gripped Armin’s shoulder, almost causing his heart to stop, and Historia was looking up at him with a grin. 

“Jesus, Tori. When the hell did you get here?”

She laughed, and Ymir joined her a moment later, shooting Eren a glare. He stuck his tongue out at her as a reply. “Just now. You guys were so busy being all lovey-dovey you didn’t even hear me running towards you.”

“We’re not being lovey-dovey.”

“Mhmmm.” 

He lightly shoved her, and she blew a raspberry at him, letting go and opting to link her arm with Ymir’s instead. “I’m still convinced you’ve led me here as some sort of death-trap.”

“You know, if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve already.”

He sighed. “That's definitely reassuring.”

They paid for their tickets and ice-skates at the front desk, and within minutes, they were let into the rink, the stinging cold coming from the freezers all around the room chilling Armin to the bone. For a moment, he wished he’d worn something more layered, but Eren squeezed his hand, sending tingles all the way down to his spine, and he figured that he’d probably be okay. At least for now.

“How the fuck is it this crowded already?” Ymir groaned. Armin, unfortunately, had to agree with her. There were packs of people zooming around the ice, the scrape of their skates echoing all around the place. “It’s a Thursday, for God’s sake.”

“Most people’s winter breaks start today,” Historia told her as the four of them made their way to the stands. Armin sat down and began to put on his skates, the others doing the same. “But I thought it’d be quieter with exams and stuff.”

“It’s more fun this way,” Eren said, grinning triumphantly when he finally managed to tie his laces together. “Gives you more of an adrenaline rush when you’re trying to avoid hitting people.”

Armin shook his head with a small smile. “You really are a masochist.”

“Or I just know how to spice things up a little.”

“How much do you wanna bet he’s gonna end up with a bloody nose by the end of this?” Ymir fake-whispered to Historia, and Eren reached over and flicked the side of her head. “I swear to fuck—”

He was running before she could finish, wobbly from the uneven footing on his skates, and Ymir raced after him, even after he jumped onto the ice. Historia bursted into giggles, and Armin couldn’t help but do the same. “Look at her face. It’s like an angry cat on steroids. ”

“This was such a bad idea,” Armin said, watching as Eren attempted to crash her into one of the people leaning on the banister for support, but she tackled him before he could, sending them speeding across the ice and hitting one of the glass walls. “They’re going to give themselves concussions, at this rate.”

Historia shrugged. “Let them. Maybe they’ll learn to stop fighting each other then.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen in a million years.”

“Still worth a shot,” she mused. Eren managed to free himself from Ymir’s grip, rushing to the other end of the rink as she continued to follow. Historia patted Armin’s shoulder. “Look at them, ‘Min. We’re dating idiots.”

“Yeah,” he said fondly. Ymir pulled at Eren’s hair, and his incoming scream was so loud Armin could hear it from where he sat. “We are, aren’t we?”

“And we should probably catch up to them before they kill each other.” She held out her hand, and he took it, not daring to let go as she led him to the ice. She made her way onto the rink with ease, but when he looked down, nervousness spiked in his chest, his skate-covered-foot hovering over glossy blue. She gave him an encouraging smile. “C’mon. You’re not gonna die.”

“I know that,” he muttered, finally letting his weight fall onto the ice. It was less slippery when he stood on it with both feet, but he still felt unsteady, every muscle in his body screaming at him as he put his all into holding himself up. “I forgot how much this shit hurts. Ow.”

“You’ll get the hang of it after a few minutes. Trust me,” she said, slowly guiding him in Eren and Ymir’s direction. They must’ve noticed their arrival, because they paused their little scuffle and skated over to them, Armin shifting his hold from Historia to Eren when he held his arm out for him to take. Ymir whisked Historia away a second later, the pair of them laughing as they held hands and twirled each other in circles.

“I’m surprised you guys haven’t been kicked out yet,” Armin chuckled, brushing a strand of hair out of Eren’s face. The other boy flushed. “Seriously, all that over a flick?”

“The hatred runs deeper than that, ‘Min. It’s embedded in me. You won’t get it till you have a mortal enemy.”

“Since when were you mortal enemies?”

Eren shrugged. “It’s fate, I guess.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Armin said. He yelped, almost slipping when his right foot twisted in the wrong direction, but Eren caught him just in time, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding him steady. “Oh my God, I’m gonna die, this is it—”

“Relax, ‘Min,” Eren laughed. Their faces were so close Armin could feel his breath hitting the tip of his nose. “I’ve got you. See?” He squeezed his torso. “And I’m not letting go unless you say so.”

“If you even try—”

“I won’t,” Eren promised. He smacked a few kisses to Armin’s cheek. “You know I’d never even think of doing such a thing.”

“Of course not,” Armin said weakly. He eyed the banister behind him. “Could you—”

“Here.” Eren effortlessly guided them to the edge of the rink, propping Armin’s side against the banister so that he had extra support alongside Eren’s hold. “Just tell me when you wanna move.”

Armin let himself breathe for a minute, slowly feeling his legs get used to the unstable surface beneath him, before he squeezed Eren’s shoulders. “Okay, I think I’m ready now.”

“Just follow my lead,” he said, holding Armin’s hands and gently leading him away from the banister. They stayed like that for a while, Armin just focusing on the push and pull of his feet against the ice and Eren’s praise each time he managed to let go for a moment. Historia and Ymir joined them at some point, their cheeks flushed red from the cold, but Armin suspected that wasn’t the complete reason, judging from the small sparkle in Historia’s eyes and the way Ymir’s gaze never left her.

“You didn’t die!” she cheered. He rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Uh huh, no thanks to you.”

She tried to kick him, but he dodged her just in time, Eren laughing as he pulled Armin further away from her reach. “Y’know what, I hope you fall. Break your neck, even, for good measure.”

“Love you too, Tori. Really, I’m touched.”

“You’re dead to me.” 

“Mhmmm. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

She flipped him off. “Fuck you. I’m leaving.” She grabbed Ymir’s arm and started dragging her to the other side of the rink.

“Bye!” Armin shouted. She kept going without another word, but he could see the hint of a small, amused grin on her face. 

Eren kissed the back of his hand. “You think you can try skating on your own now?”

“Maybe.” Armin cocked his head. “Why?”

Eren gave a mischievous grin, one that Armin had become strikingly familiar with over the years. “So we can steal one of those penguins and race with them.”

“The kiddie ones over there?”

“Duh.”

Armin looked down at his feet, then at Eren’s pleading face, and shrugged with a smile. “I don’t see why not.”

“Fuck yeah,” Eren whooped. “Okay, you see that one on the left?” He pointed to it, and Armin nodded. “Wait for my signal.”

The second they saw an opening, Eren gently patted his arm, and they rushed to the plastic, way-too-small penguin, Armin grabbing it by the handle and Eren sitting in it as he started to push. “Now all we have to do is—”

“Hey!” A shout came from behind, and Armin spotted a middle-aged man attempting to skate towards them, a kid that Armin was ninety-nine percent sure was his standing behind him, starting to wail. “Let go of that!”

“Go, go, go!” Eren shouted, and Armin did, the cries of the man getting more muffled as he hurdled them at speeds so fast they almost crashed into people multiple times. “Holy fucking shit.”

Armin laughed, a grin overtaking his face in response to the high rushing through his veins. “You were right about the adrenaline thing, by the way. It feels great.”

“Told you— oh my God, turn!”

Armin yanked them to the side, narrowly missing the banister and Eren almost falling off in the process, but even that wasn’t enough to stop him from cheering. “Yeah!”

They kept spinning in circles, Armin’s vision getting blurrier by the second, but any fears he would have harbored in those moments were melted away by Eren’s laughs and shouts and his glowing, happy face, something Armin couldn’t miss, even if he tried. 

All in all, he’d definitely be doing this again.

𑁤

Since Ymir and Historia had come by Uber, Armin dropped them off first with promises to send each other the horrible candid pictures they took in the rink. Eren, thankfully, was too worn out from all the screaming and skating to do anything but snooze in the passenger’s seat, saving Armin from the horrors of having to listen to his music again. When he parked in the driveway, he gently shook Eren awake with additional, coaxing kisses to his face, and once he was satisfied, he helped him out of the car and up the stairs to the door.

“You can put your stuff upstairs in my room,” Armin said as he unlocked the front door and ushered Eren inside. He let out a sigh of relief at the warm, crispy air coming from the heaters Erwin and Levi had finally installed two days earlier, flexing his fingers inwards and outwards. Combined with the cold air of the rink that they’d sat in for almost two hours straight, the lowering temperature and light outside hadn’t exactly been soothing to his skin. “I have a feeling it’s gonna snow soon. My hands are like ice right now.”

“And then we can finally recreate that snowman we built in the sixth grade,” Eren said wistfully, slinging his arm around Armin’s waist and walking them up the stairs, using his other arm to haul up his duffle bag. 

“I don’t even know how we built that thing. It was so big I wasn’t even able to reach its head.”

“That’s just ‘cause you’re short, ‘Min.”

Armin lightly hit his arm, and he laughed. “Mikasa was taller than both of us for seven years straight, so don’t even try.”

“That doesn’t change the fact you’re six inches shor— ow.”

Armin snickered and led Eren inside his bedroom, who shot him a glare and dumped his bag onto the bed. “Oh, don’t give me that. You had it coming.”

“You’re such a bully.”

“Only when the time calls for it,” Armin said, standing on his tippy toes and kissing Eren’s cheek. Then he glanced at the bed with a nervous look, realizing how small it actually was now that Eren was standing next to it in comparison. Armin could barely sleep in it himself — how the hell would both of them?

“Do you think we’ll be able to fit in the bed? We haven’t slept in here since we were, like, sixteen.”

Eren shrugged. “Eh, we’ll make it work. You know I’m more than happy to have you lie on top of me, or something.”

Before Armin could blurt out something stupid, like I’ve been looking forward to that all week, Eren gasped and grabbed something from the desk. “Oh my God.” He turned around, beaming, with Armin’s book on ocean facts in his hands, and Armin suppressed a groan. He must've left it there last night when he’d been doing his monthly room clean-up. “I thought you were lying about still having this thing, holy shit.”

“Why would I lie, Eren?” 

“‘Cause you’re looking at it like it killed your whole family.”

Armin flushed. “Am not. ”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.” Eren sat on the edge of the bed, swiftly flipping through all the pages with his thumb. “Aw, man. Even the smell’s making me wanna cry.”

“I didn’t realize you were so attached to a book, Eren,” Armin giggled. 

“I’m not attached! It’s just nostalgic,” he grumbled. “Reminds me of all the times I’d sleep over here as a kid and we’d stay up under the blankets, and you’d grab one of Levi’s flashlights and read it to me all night.”

Armin shook his head with a small smile. “And then you’d complain about how tired you were the next day and pass out on the couch the whole afternoon.”

“Yeah,” Eren sighed. “That was the life. I miss it. School didn’t matter, midterms didn’t fucking exist, and it was just us all the time.”

“I get it,” Armin mumbled, patting his shoulder sympathetically. Then an idea lit up in his head, and he cleared his throat. “I could, er, I could read it to you, if you want. Like I did before.”

Eren looked at him like he’d just hung up the stars, sending a rush of warmth into Armin’s belly. “Don’t play with me.”

“I’m serious,” he laughed. “We could even build a pillow fort in the living room. Erwin has all these fluffy blankets he hides in the secret coffee table compartments. Now he can’t get all fussy if we use them, since he’s not here.”

“Take me right now,” Eren ordered, and Armin smiled and pulled him off the bed by the hand.

After changing into their pajamas, they placed the largest of the blankets on the floor in the space between the couch and the coffee table, successfully covering most of the area before pushing three chairs from the dining table to use as the pillars for the other blanket. Once it was draped overhead and stable (and almost falling on Eren in the process), Armin brought down some of the soft pillows from his and Historia’s rooms and placed them all around the inside of their makeshift fort, as well as a flashlight from Levi and Erwin’s room, for old times’ sakes.

“Lay down like this,” Armin told him, moving Eren into a comfortable position onto his back by the shoulders. Eren gave a lazy smile.

“You’re taking this pretty seriously.”

Armin’s cheeks glowed pink. “Listen, you were the one getting all teary-eyed and nostalgic. The least I can do is make this nice.”

“And I’m not complaining,” Eren laughed as Armin sat upright beside him, book in hand. He rested his head against Armin’s shoulder. “I’m already sleepy.”

“I haven’t even started yet, Eren.”

“You make me sleepy,” Eren murmured. Armin shook his head, grabbed Eren’s hand, and kissed the back of it.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good.” Eren nudged his shoulder with his chin. “Start from the beginning.”

And so, Armin did. He read slowly, quietly, dragging out sentences and pitching his voice high and low at certain bits for dramatic effect, just like he did before when they were kids. He knew Eren still liked it, because each time he turned the page, he could see the rise and fall of Eren’s chest begin to slow, feel little, warm huffs of breath hitting the small patch of skin near his neck.

As he read, and for probably the thousandth time since they’d started the arrangement, he wondered how he managed to let himself get so caught up in this. How he managed to yet again succumb to Eren and his charms and just him with almost no resistance at all. Because even three months ago, even the mere idea of having Eren like this again was something that would’ve broken his brain in two; and now, look at them, cuddling underneath something as childish as a pillowfort and pretending to be children again, with absolutely no idea just how messed up things between them would become in the future. A painful twist snatched at his heart, and he paused to glance at the boy beside him.

His cheek was mushed into Armin’s sweater, but even that wasn’t enough to make him any less beautiful; in fact, it made him even more so, making his hair all ruffled and messily framing his face like a halo. He’d propped up his legs against his chest, and had curled his arms around his shoulders, letting them rest underneath his chin for support. Dark brown lashes suddenly fluttered against his tan skin, and he looked up at Armin. Green eyes that’d always reminded him of the forest — dark like the leaves of evergreen trees — bore into his own. Armin reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

I love you.

He almost said it, almost let himself slip for that one, small moment, and his throat suddenly felt like it’d been yanked by a rope. No.

I love Eren.

I love Eren?

“Armin?” Eren asked, his voice muffled in his ears. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, not realizing he’d been staring, and tried to will away the newfound prickling in his chest. “I’m— I’m fine.”

“You stopped.” Eren frowned. Furrowed his brows. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

For all he knew, Armin very well could’ve. Even that would’ve been preferable to this, to the inevitable, soul-crushing realization that he loved Eren. He still loved Eren. It’d been a year, one year since they’d ended things for good, and he still loved him. Loved him like the coming of new spring, like the warmth emitting from the fireplace at Carla’s house, like the roaring waves crashing onto shore. Like he’d never left.

Maybe, all this time, he’d never stopped.

Armin surged forward in an instant, cupping Eren’s face in his hands and kissing all over as if he’d suddenly slip away through the cracks in his fingers. Eren gasped at first, but quickly tilted his head so that their lips met, kissing Armin with so much enthusiasm that he almost tumbled backwards and hit the blanket covering them. A small, needy noise escaped Armin’s mouth, but he was too focused on Eren to be embarrassed, using all the strength he could muster to pin him down against the pillows, tossing the book to the side, not even bothering to care where it landed. Eren’s hand moved into his hair, the familiar feel of his tug electrifying Armin like a strike of lightning, and he pressed his tongue to the seam of Eren’s lips, earning a small moan in response.

“Je t’aime.” It came out like it’d been forcibly ripped from him, broken and beaten, but Armin had to let it out somehow. “Je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime.”

“Armin,” Eren murmured, pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth. “What—”

“Je t’aime tant. Plus que tout,” he choked out. Eren’s brows pulled together, and Armin felt a warm hand cup his cheek.

“Love, you’re crying.” Armin blinked, having just noticed the tears beginning to spill, and Eren wiped them with his lips, brushing them right beneath his eyes and swallowing the saltiness away. “Shhhh, baby, it’s okay. What’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” he whispered, burying his face in the crook of Eren’s neck. He couldn’t bear to look at him— not like this. “It’s nothing. I’m just being an idiot.”

“You’re not being an idiot for crying, ‘Min,” Eren said firmly. Armin hiccuped, and he felt Eren’s hand rub soothing strokes up and down his back. “There, that’s it. Just let it all out…”

“I’m sorry,” Armin murmured, wiping away the tears that fell onto Eren’s skin. “It’s really nothing.”

“‘Min—”

Armin forced himself to face him, steadying his hands against the pillows behind him for support. “Please, Eren. I can’t.”

Eren just stayed silent, his expression unreadable, but he pulled Armin back against him anyways, his hold so tight Armin thought it should’ve hurt, at least a little, but it didn’t. Not in the slightest. “Okay. But I’m here. You know I’m always here, yeah?”

Not for long. Armin shut his eyes. Not for long at all.

Chapter Text

“Erwin, please, let me help, this is starting to become painful.”

Armin chuckled as he watched his parents in the kitchen from the doorway; Erwin’s hands, neck, and nose were smeared with flour, the remnants of his botched cake-mix still mushed around in the bowl on the counter. Levi was currently attempting to wipe it all off with a towel, despite Erwin’s laughs and protests, and the whole thing was so cute and sweet Armin may as well have barfed and gotten a toothache.

“Levi, darling, it’s alright, I’ve got it—”

“You look like you’ve been snorting crack.”

“Who’s been snorting crack?” Historia asked, peering her head through the open space next to Armin. “Damn, Dad. On Christmas morning?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Erwin said quickly, and Armin started giggling. “He just doesn’t want me to continue the lovely birthday cake I’ve been making him—”

“The third birthday cake,” Levi interrupted with a smile. 

“At least I’m trying.”

“That you are,” Levi said, pulling Erwin down by the face to kiss his mouth. Erwin’s cheeks went crimson red, and Armin almost had half a mind to snap a picture before Levi shot them both a look. “Are you guys here to help, or are you just standing there watching this whole mess?”

“Just standing,” Armin grinned. “Your face is red, Dad.”

“Alright, you know what—” 

“I’m leaving before I throw up,” Historia declared, tugging on Armin’s sleeve as she attempted to drag him with her. “C’mon, Armin, please, I need help cleaning up the last bits of wrapping paper. Mikasa’s still snoring upstairs and Ymir hasn’t gotten here yet.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, relenting and giving Erwin and Levi their privacy. The Christmas tree they’d put up in the living room a few days ago wasn’t that messy, decorated with ornaments and trinkets they’d collected over the years. The piles of fancy paper on the floor around it, though, was a different story. Historia ordered him to work on the ones on the left, and although he was so tired his bones ached, he was just glad she pitied him and gave up the smaller section.

Christmas was always a somewhat mellow affair in their household — with it also being Levi’s birthday, they never had any big parties or family gatherings, minus Hange, Moblit, and other family friends that swung by to pass on their Christmas and birthday gifts, but that was usually later on in the day. The morning was reserved for shenanigans like this: cleaning up wrapping paper, botching birthday cakes. The works.

He glanced at the other wrappers scattered all over the place. Only two boxes were left untouched in the corner underneath the tree. One of them had Mikasa’s name on it, but the smaller one was something Armin had carefully picked out yesterday while he and Levi had gone last-minute Christmas shopping. Eren’s name peeked out on the corner of the tag, and he swallowed, forcing himself to look away and focus on his cleaning. It may have been pathetic, but he wasn’t even able to keep the damn thing in his room without getting all angsty— staring at it wasn’t any better. And it didn’t help that he hadn’t been alone with Eren in the past few days, either, not since he’d basically confessed his love to him, cried, and embarrassingly fell asleep on him in a fucking pillow fort, of all things. And since then, he’d spent every waking moment berating himself and asking why, why, why couldn’t I have just stopped it? Why did I let things go on for this long?

Why am I going to have to let him go all over again?

“Armin,” Historia said abruptly, pulling him out of his thoughts. She gave him a concerned look. “You okay?”

“It’s nothing,” he said mildly, kneeling down and turning back to the last bits and pieces of his pile. He heard her sigh, a small, pitiful thing that made him want to gauge his eyeballs out even more.

“You’re doing the thing again. The Freya thing.”

“I know,” was all he said after a few moments of silence, because he didn’t feel like lying. What was the point, anyways? Nothing was fake for him anymore, and he knew Historia was tired of him just shutting her out whenever she asked what was wrong. It wasn’t fair to her.

She blinked, then snorted. “Huh. I wasn’t expecting you to actually admit it.”

“Yeah, well. New year, new shit, all that.”

“It’s Christmas, Armin.”

“Basically new years, then.”

“Tell me what’s up,” she said, her voice softening just a tad. He exhaled through his nose and fell flat on his back, staring up at the fan on the ceiling and watching as it turned and turned and turned. Historia did the same, though her movements were a lot more graceful than his. “Jesus, you look like you’ve lost all will to live. It must be really bad.”

“I told Eren I loved him,” Armin whispered. Historia stayed silent — for a minute, a few, ten, he didn’t know. The past few days had felt slow, slower than usual, like trickling honey in a jar, including tiny moments like this, where it was just him and his sister and the looming thoughts that’d been keeping him up all night. “Well, not exactly, anyway. I said it in French.”

“When?” she asked quietly. He blindly reached for her hand, and she took it, giving it a little squeeze.

“The night he stayed over when Pa and Dad were away.” Armin closed his eyes, remembering the look on Eren’s face when he’d blurted it out. The way his brows had furrowed in confusion, but also how his eyes had flashed with recognition. Armin had said it to him once before in freshman year, the night Eren had asked him out officially, cuddled up together in his childhood bedroom. It’d been late, and he’d been sure that Eren was sleeping, but maybe he’d heard that whispered confession after all. Still, he’d never asked what it meant, and it didn’t seem like he’d looked it up, obviously, so Armin was still good. At least for now.

“He didn’t ask what it meant, did he?” she asked. Armin just shook his head. “Okay, so why are you all worked up about it? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “Maybe… maybe Eren doesn’t feel the same. Not yet.”

“Yeah, and hell’s suddenly frozen over,” Historia said sarcastically. He shot her a glare. “Don’t look all grumpy. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t said it to you first.”

“It’s only been two-and-a-half months.”

“You guys were saying ‘I love you’ to each other within the first two days you started dating in high school, though.”

“That’s way different,” he sighed. “I’d known for years at that point. And we hadn’t broken up beforehand.”

Historia waved her hand. “Tomato, tomato. My point is, you can’t keep internalizing all this shit, Armin. Some things you need to let flow on their own. If you love him, just say it.”

If only it were that simple, he thought miserably. “I’ll give it a bit more time.”

“Whatever. He’s gonna be saying it before you, at this point,” she grumbled, then sat up and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Tell him. You’ll be glad you did.”

“I’ll think about it,” he murmured. She hummed and stood. Moments later, a phone was being slid onto the hand he still had laying against the floor. 

“I heard it buzzing earlier, but you were being too emo to notice.”

“I wasn’t being emo,” he retorted. Historia didn’t respond; her footsteps boomed against the floor as she walked back to the kitchen, followed by her and Levi’s squabbles.

Armin tapped open the phone screen. A notification from Eren popped up at the bottom, and he swallowed.

Eren ❤️(3 minutes ago, 10:26 a.m.)

Sent an image

mom says hi and merry christmas

also tell levi we say hbd

The photo he’d sent was a selfie of him and Carla; she was grinning and had one arm wrapped around Eren’s shoulders while he stuck his tongue out at the camera, fake reindeer antlers sitting on the top of his head. In the back, Zeke barely peeked behind Carla’s head, but Armin didn’t spot Grisha anywhere. Although the picture was a relatively normal thing to get on Christmas, he had no idea if Eren had told Carla about them yet, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask. Then again, she probably would’ve forced Eren to invite him and his family over for dinner if she did know, so he guessed she was still in the dark about the whole thing. Not that it mattered. Eren could tell her whenever he was ready.

Armin (just now, 10:29 a.m.)

Awww

Merry Christmas to both of you, too :) 

I’ll pass on the message to Levi

Eren’s typing bubble popped up immediately, and he slightly cringed at how rigid his texts were. Stop being so fucking obvious.

Eren ❤️

well someone’s cranky today

Armin

Wdym

I’m not cranky

Eren ❤️

yeahhhhhhhhh

sure minnie

also just to make sure ur still up for hosting connie’s snowball fight thing later today right?

Armin

Unfortunately.

Historia’s making me agree

Eren ❤️

LMAOAOOAOA

as she should

Armin

Smh

Traitor

Eren ❤️

think of it this way

you get to see me

Armin

True

Eren ❤️

<3

ok i’ve gotta go zeke’s in a mood and he’s making me help him with dishes

but i’ll see you

Armin

LMFAO

Bye Eren good luck

Don’t die please

Eren ❤️

i’m trying :(

Armin

:(

“Why are you on the floor?” Levi suddenly loomed over him, and he yelped, almost dropping his phone on his face. Armin sat up and tried to catch his breath, Levi still looking at him suspiciously. 

“Pa, what the hell?”

“You’re going to give yourself head problems if you keep doing that,” he said gravely, holding out a hand for Armin to take and hauling him off the floor. Armin let out a small snort.

“I was just lying down.”

“And you’re making blood rush to your head.” Levi patted his cheek. “Your face is turning pink.”

Well, that was for other reasons, namely one of the many hearts Eren had been sending him over the past few days, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell him that. “I’ll use a pillow next time, then, if it’s working you up so much.”

“Mhm.”

It was then that Mikasa came down the stairs, her hair so unkept it looked like she’d just mindlessly blown at it with a hairdryer. She blinked and squinted her eyes at them, and Armin fought very hard to stop the incoming burst of giggles threatening to come loose from his throat. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Language, Mikasa,” Levi said gruffly, and Armin allowed himself a small laugh. She waved him off and shuffled over to Armin, flinging her arms around his shoulders and resting her cheek against his neck. He patted her back and moved them from side to side, grinning when he felt her nudge her nose against his collarbone. She was always cuddly when she was sleepy, much like she was when she was drunk, and most of the time he was the one she drifted to when she was in these kinds of states. He didn’t mind, though; he actually found it quite sweet.

“Morning, Miks,” he mused. She mumbled something incoherent. “Sleep well?”

“She looks like she’s gonna pass out again,” Levi commented, and he wasn’t wrong. Armin could feel Mikasa slowly slipping away, her breathing slowing with every second. 

“Miks,” Armin said gently, and she let out an annoyed groan. “C’mon. I know you can do it.”

“But it’s so early,” she complained, finally pulling back after an encouraging push from Armin. “I could hear you guys screaming from the guest room.”

“I wasn’t screaming. That was Pa.”

“And Historia,” he said. 

“Hey!” Historia shouted from the doorway. Erwin stood behind her with a grin, still ambushed with flour. “Don’t act like you didn’t start it.”

“But I didn’t.”

“You short, miserable little—”

“Why does Erwin look like he took a dump in crack?” Mikasa asked abruptly. Erwin groaned.

“Surely it can’t be that bad?”

“Have you checked a mirror, or?”

“Leave him alone,” Armin chuckled, earning a yelled thank you from his father as he yanked her away towards the tree. Historia and Levi started arguing about God knows what, but he did his best to tune them out. It’d been a skill he’d developed ever since he was five years old and Historia learned how to talk back. “You haven’t opened your gift yet.”

“I thought Historia would’ve torn it open by now,” she mused, picking up the box and giving it a little shake. 

“Well, she’s the one who had the final decision in picking it out, so.”

“Of course she did.” Mikasa tore the pastel pink wrapping paper away, revealing cardboard underneath. “I feel like she snuck a snake in here, or something.”

Armin stole a glance at Historia behind them and grinned. She was trying to pull at Levi’s neatly kept hair, but he kept dodging every one of her attempts. Erwin had seemingly gone back into the kitchen to continue his third birthday cake. “Nah. She has half a heart not to try and kill us on Christmas.”

“One would hope so,” Mikasa said in a fake accent, and he laughed. Her fingers pried open the two cardboard flaps closing the box, and she gasped. “Oh my God.” 

Inside was a beautiful black, off the shoulders dress, the chest area and sleeves outlined with lace and the skirt splitting mid way and puffing out in rough material. At the bottom of the box, there were a few silver rings and a necklace with a hanging rose quartz. Mikasa looked like she was going to cry, which wasn’t something that happened very often, so he knew Historia had definitely made the right choice in picking this dress as the final cut. It’d been between this one and another, more puffy design, but Armin had suggested that they go with something more low-key fit for better casual use, and they’d both paid for it along with the jewelry that Armin had spotted. 

“You like it?” he asked. She held it to her chest and inhaled the new clothes scent beginning to omit from it.

“I’m wearing it to her new years party. And every day after that. Historia!” she shouted, and Historia paused her and Levi’s little scuffle, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the dress in Mikasa’s hands. “I’m wearing this for new years!”

“That’s why I bought it!” she shouted back. Mikasa blew her a kiss, and she took the distraction as an opportunity to poke Levi’s cheek. She jumped and screamed in triumph, and he looked like he was on the verge of committing some felony.

“I love Christmas,” Mikasa sighed. Armin rested his head on her shoulder, and she slung an arm around his waist.

“Me, too.”

𑁤

“This is it, men. This is the time we conquer them once and for all.”

Armin was panting so hard he may as well have been wheezing with every inhale and exhale. Beside him, Eren looked no better, sweating despite the fact that it was snowing and the temperature was in the negatives. Jean shot Connie a glare, while Reiner, Bertholdt, and Marco collectively worked together to try and make at least a few dozen snowballs.

So far, it looked like the girls would be winning the annual snowball fight this year. Again. Like they had every year since Sasha had started it in the fifth grade by throwing a snowball at the back of Jean’s head. Frankly, Armin had predicted this outcome a mile away, since they had Mikasa and Annie and that was basically game over in itself, but Connie seemed to think they still had a chance at winning, which was ridiculous. It was only two minutes into the third fucking round, and he and Eren had been eliminated, Annie had almost broken Reiner’s nose, and all six of them had retreated behind the bar for cover. Really, it was starting to get a bit embarrassing.

“Can’t — breathe,” Eren rasped. Connie kicked his shin, and he groaned, falling onto the ground like he’d just been stabbed in the gut. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“You don’t even stand a chance in the state you’re in, let’s be real.”

“Fuck you.”

Armin knelt beside him and took his gloved hand for comfort, Eren squeezing so harshly he was certain his own glove was going to slip off his fingers. “Connie, he’s just been hit by Annie. Give him a break.”

“There’s no time for all this love shit on the battlefield. We can’t fucking lose to them again, I refuse.”

“Let me guess, you made a bet with Ymir?” Bertholdt said.

“Yeah — wait, how the hell did you know?”

“Because you’re dumb enough to fall for what she tells you,” said Jean. Connie took a handful of snow and chucked it right at his face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

“Connie, we’re supposed to be hitting the snowballs at the others, not our own!” Marco gawked. “What happened to solidarity and all that shit you were spewing earlier?”

“If they don’t get us, we’ll be the cause of our own demise soon enough,” Reiner shuddered. Bertholdt patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“We just need to regroup.” Marco leaned forward and helped Jean clean off most of the snow, but there were still a few flecks in his eyelashes and brows. “Now, all we have to do is figure out their strategy, and we’re golden.”

“Their strategy’s just hit, kill, and run,” Armin murmured. “And it’s definitely working.”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up too, Armin.”

“I mean, I did get eliminated, so me being here is just useless.”

“But you’re our main strategist!” Marco whined. “Come on, man, just give us something.”

“Hide and pray they don’t find you. That’s all I’ve got.”

“Goddammit.”

“Merry Christmas, I guess?”

“Come out already!” he heard Mikasa shout. A trail of snickers followed. “You’re just wasting our time!”

“Fuck off!” Connie yelled. “Reiner, how many snowballs do you have now?”

“Uh.” He held up two. “Here.”

“That’s it?”

“I don’t work well under pressure, you know this!”

“They’re snowballs, Reiner. Snowballs.”

“We should honestly just let them hit us, at this point,” Armin grimaced. “Get it over with now and then form some sort of plan for the next round.”

“Do you want me to kill myself?”

“Oh my God, Connie, no—”

“So fight for me, Armin.” Connie grabbed Armin by the collar, and Eren looked like he was on the verge of stuffing Connie’s mouth with snow. “C’mon, bro, please. Do you know how much money I’m gonna lose?”

“Should I even ask?”

“A hundred bucks.”

“Okay, what the fuck?”

“First of all, get your hands off him. Second, aren’t you already broke as hell?” Eren asked, pushing Connie by the chest and looking a lot calmer once his butt hit the snowy ground. 

“I thought we’d win by pure strength, okay? Reiner’s, like, the definition of a beefcake.”

Reiner’s jaw went slack. “I’m a what?”

“Beefcake.”

“Is that a slur?”

“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Jean groaned. 

“Me and you both,” Armin muttered. As Connie and Reiner kept going back and forth, and Marco, Jean, and Bertholdt tried to salvage the snowballs they had left, Eren tapped Armin’s shoulder.

“‘Min.”

Armin forced himself to meet his gaze and smiled despite the hurt in his stomach; it was only nature with him. “Hi, Eren.”

“I need to talk to you,” Eren said urgently, and Armin thought he was genuinely going to barf right then and there. Please don’t know. Please don’t let it be that. “It’ll be quick, promise. While they’re distracted.”

“Okay,” Armin squeaked, getting a glance of confusion from Marco as Eren moved his hand into Armin’s and pulled him up. They shuffled against the back of the bar, and Armin peeked his head to the other side to make sure they were in the clear to run to the house. Sure, they were eliminated, but he’d rather not get another smack of snow to the face if he could help it. Thankfully, the girls had moved to form a huddle in the middle of the backyard, talking up some sort of ambush plan in hushed tones, so Armin took that as his que to bolt, Eren right behind him as they tumbled through the sliding doors and into the living room, breathless laughter filling the air. Eren kissed Armin’s cheek, and he may as well have exploded on the spot.

“Jesus, that was terrifying.”

“Tell me about it,” Armin grinned.

They ended up going to the small space underneath the stairs, where Armin and Historia used to hide when they played hide and seek with their parents as kids. The lights were off, so Armin could barely see Eren’s face, but the dent between his brows and the frown playing on his lips were obvious enough. Flashes of that fight they’d had at his parents’ house before midterms suddenly came to mind, before he shook them away. He couldn’t just jump to the worst conclusion — this was probably just about something small and dumb that Eren didn’t want the others overhearing. Yeah. “Er, what’s happening?”

“First of all, hi,” Eren started. “I missed you.”

Armin swallowed. Squeezed Eren’s hand as tightly as he could without it being painful. “Me, too.”

“Second,” he continued, though he’d pepped up a bit. “Are you — you know, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Armin said carefully, not quite sure where this was going. “Why?”

“Last time we hung out,” Eren murmured, and the urge to just run in the other direction seemed more and more appealing to Armin with each passing second. He knows. He knows.

Fuck, he knows.

“Oh, that,” Armin laughed, forcing his tone to change from rigid to light and relaxed. “Don’t worry about it, Eren, seriously. I think it was just all the stress I held back during midterms catching up to me.”

Eren didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “But then you started crying, then started mumbling shit in French, and you only do that when you’re, like, really upset about something.”

How the hell is he able to read me so well, still? Armin thought weakly. “I was just a bit overwhelmed, is all.”

Eren stepped forward, and the grazing touch to his cheek sent blood soaring straight to Armin’s head. “And was it just about midterms?”

“Er,” Armin said stupidly, feeling Eren’s thumb start to move back and forth against his skin. He hadn’t had him this close since three days ago, since he realized he still loved him, and the gesture was somehow even more electrifying, more different, than every single time they’d touched in the past two months of their arrangement. “Maybe not?”

Eren hummed and rested their foreheads together. “Okay. Listen, I don’t want it to seem like I’m pushing you—”

“You’re not,” Armin said quickly, and he meant it. He knew Eren was just trying to help, but he couldn’t say anything, obviously, as badly as he wanted to. “You never are.”

“‘Min,” Eren sighed. He softly kissed the top of his head, the contact of Eren’s lips against his skin sending some sort of electrical current to his brain, because all he could register was the faint buzz, buzz thrumming at the base of his skull. There’s definitely something wrong with me, at this point. “I fucking hate seeing you stressed. And I get it if you think it’s embarrassing, or something, but I know if you just get it off your chest, you’ll feel so much better. I swear.”

“I know,” Armin said quietly. He closed his eyes. “But I can’t.”

“No matter how many times you say that, I still don’t get it.”

“Soon,” Armin promised, kissing the corner of Eren’s mouth as a way to seal the deal. Because he’d have to tell him at some point, wouldn’t he? Mere feelings he could hide with no problem — he’d been doing that ever since they were eight years old. But love was something completely different. Even just the thought of going on like this for another week was something that physically pained him. “I just need a bit more time. Please.”

Eren pecked the side of his head and locked him in an embrace, Armin leaning into the touch in instants. “I’ll wait for as long as you need. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Armin whispered. He buried his face in Eren’s shoulder, making sure his lips were covered by the fabric of his shirt. I love you. “Je t’aime.”

“There’s that word again,” Eren murmured, and Armin’s heart quickened its already excessive pace. “What does it mean?”

Armin pulled away and looked up at him with a small smile. “You can search it up, Eren.”

“But I don’t know how to spell it!” he complained. “C’mon, ‘Min, tell me.”

Armin tapped the tip of Eren’s nose with his finger. “No can do.”

“Did you just boop me?”

“Yep.”

“You little—”

“Ahem.” They turned, and Historia was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. Red immediately flooded into Armin’s cheeks. “Man, I should’ve known you were in here just doing corny ass shit.”

“Hi, Tori,” Armin said, trying for a smile. “We were just, er—”

She held her hand up to stop him. “I don’t even wanna know. But can you guys hurry up? We made a truce and we’re working out boundary lines and shit.”

Armin rolled his eyes, not enthusiastic about going back out there and dealing with Connie in the slightest, but all Eren said was, “We’ll be there in a sec.”

“Fine,” she sighed.

Just as she was about to turn away, Eren shouted, “Hey, wait! I have a question.”

“What, Jeager?”

He glanced at Armin, then back at her. “What does ‘je t’aime’ mean?”

His pronunciation was completely butchered, but Historia’s eyes widened in understanding anyway. Her gaze flickered to Armin, and he gave her a look that said, please, Tori, for the love of God, don’t do this to me.

“It means ‘I think you’re an idiot.’”

“Huh?” He turned to Armin and gasped. “Is that what you’ve been telling me this whole time?”

Thank you, he mouthed discreetly as possible, and she gave him a small, knowing smile before leaving out the way she came. “Well, it’s not the exact translation, but I guess so.”

“Damn,” Eren said, but he sounded amused more than anything. “What did I do to make you think I’m an idiot?”

“I meant it in an endearing way, of course.”

“Of course,” Eren snorted.

As they made their way back to the sliding door, they passed the Christmas tree, and it was then that Armin remembered the present he’d kept underneath it for Eren. “Wait.”

Eren stopped immediately, a concerned frown playing on his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just, er —” Armin nodded to the tree. “I have something I want to give you, if you don’t mind?”

Eren blinked, and then he started to laugh. “Oh my God, ‘Min, I told you no presents —”

“That’s what I said on my birthday, and you still got me something,” Armin interrupted, his hand going up to touch the golden necklace sitting on his collarbone immediately. He hadn’t taken it off once, not since Eren had put it on him that day on the beach. “I’m not taking any protests.”

“But —” Armin yanked him to the tree, and he yelped. “Armin, I swear.”

“It’s not much,” Armin said sheepishly, kneeling down so that he could grab the small box in the corner. He handed it to Eren, whose cheeks were so red Armin was surprised he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of them. “But I hope you like it.”

“‘Min,” was all Eren said, biting his lip as he looked down at the box. “You know I’ll like anything you get me, right? Even things you didn’t have to get.”

Armin snorted and nudged his foot. “We’ll see. Just open it.”

“I am, I am,” Eren chuckled, ripping through the green wrapping paper, crumbling it into a ball, and handing it to Armin, who threw it in the bin near the kitchen door. Eren visibly hesitated, staring down at the small white box, but finally pried it open after a few seconds with a small intake of breath. “Armin.”

“Is it okay?” Armin whispered. Eren held up the contents — a golden bracelet with a small, detailed golden shell hanging from the middle, much like the one Armin had on his own necklace. “I thought we could match.”

Without another word, Eren surged forward, cupped his face, and kissed him, so fierce that Armin almost stumbled back and hit the tree, but he managed to keep himself upright, his hands traveling down Eren’s clothed chest and fisting at the fabric as a sort of anchor. Eren didn’t stop, though, keeping Armin as close as humanly possible as he used his thumb to gently tilt Armin’s head up, groaning when Armin clutched at his jacket so hard his nails accidentally scraped the skin underneath. He tried to mumble an apology, but it didn’t seem like Eren was going to let him go far enough to talk anytime soon, and, well, Armin was perfectly fine with that.

I’m going to live the rest of my life like this, he thought, dazed. I’m going to stay like this forever and be perfectly content. Fuck the snowball fight. Fuck everything.

Unfortunately, fate wasn’t in his favor, because Eren did manage to end up pulling back after all, grinning so widely his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re so fucking cute, I’m gonna die.”

“Huh?” Armin squeaked, his face practically going up in flames, but Eren just kissed him again, albeit a lot gentler and shorter this time.

“I love it,” Eren murmured. “I love it so much. It’s perfect.”

“That’s — that’s, er, good,” Armin managed, not quite sure how to function after what just happened. Eren laughed again, then held out his arm.

“Could you put it on for me? I suck at gripping the hook thingy at the bottom.”

“Here.” Armin took the bracelet from him, then tenderly wrapped it around his wrist, carefully resting his thumb against the hook and connecting it to the clasp. “Is that too tight?”

“Nope. I can barely feel it.” Eren gave him another kiss to the cheek. “And now I get to match with you. Man, why didn’t I think of that before?”

“At least I did,” Armin grinned.

“True.” A shout came from outside, and he sighed. “Some fucking truce, huh? How long’s it been since Historia came to get us?”

“I actually have no idea. Like, three minutes?”

“Jesus.”

When they got back outside, a line had been drawn in the snow separating the backyard in half, and Annie and Mikasa were sitting on the lounging chairs beside the pool. “Guys!” Connie yelled. “We fucking did it! They’re out.”

“This is just unfair,” Sasha complained. “It’s six of you against four of us.”

“Having those two on your team is like a ten person boost,” Jean retorted, nodding to Mikasa and Annie. Mikasa just shrugged.

“If we’re only out for one round, I don’t mind.”

“And we’re still gonna beat them without you. I don’t know why they’d think otherwise,” Ymir said. Connie flipped her off, but she merely grinned.

“This is it. Just accept defeat.”

“Never in a million years, Constance.”

Before Connie could say anything else, Marco started counting down from ten, and Armin hastily grabbed a handful of snow and started kneading it into a ball shape. He glanced at Eren, who smiled and nudged his foot in encouragement, and Armin may or may have not considered getting both of them hit on purpose just so they could slip away again.

“Now!” Marco shouted, and Ymir immediately took the first throw.

The girls ended up winning.

𑁤

Over the years, Armin had come to realize that the word “casual” just simply didn’t exist in his sister’s vocabulary. No, really, this was actually starting to get a little insane. A little over-the-top, if you will. Because who in their right mind would say “trust me, Armin, this year the party won’t even be that many people” and expect this to suffice?

“I’m actually going to kill myself,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands as Eren rubbed circles into his back. Even the outside of Historia’s house was packed with people; cars were parked all over the driveway and edge of the street, people were drinking alcohol, sometimes in small circles all around her front porch, music was blasting so loudly inside it rumbled Eren’s car all the way out here, and it was only 11:30. “No, really, this is it for me. Say your goodbyes now.”

“Armin,” Eren chuckled. “Listen, if you could survive Connie’s parties, I think you can manage one of your sister’s new years parties. There were even more people last time.”

“But she hadn’t told me it would be casual last time. I’m, like, severely underdressed.”

Eren shut him up with a kiss, and Armin allowed himself to lean into it for a few seconds, missing the warm buzz against his lips when Eren pulled away with a smile. “And you look beautiful, as usual.”

Armin blushed. “Thank you, Eren.”

“It’s just the truth.” He began playing with a strand of Armin’s hair; the bracelet Armin had gotten him dangled from his wrist, and he fought the urge to grin at the sight of it. “Look, if you really don’t wanna go in, I’ll drive you right back home the second you say so. It’s no problem for me.”

“I already told her I’d come, though,” Armin murmured. “And I want you to have fun.”

“I’d only have fun if you were going.”

“You’re such a sap,” Armin giggled. “Fine. I might not kill myself, then.”

“And thank God for that.” Eren moved his hand down Armin’s cheek, stroking the skin there with his knuckles, and Armin couldn’t physically help but relax into the motion. “We’ll be fine, ‘Min. Now c’mon, you know Historia’s gonna yell at us if we’re any later.”

“That’s if she’s not piss-drunk already,” Armin murmured.

The house was even more crowded than the outside, and made Connie’s halloween party look like child’s play. Armin kept his hand tangled with Eren’s, because he knew if he didn’t, they’d lose each other and get sucked into the tightness of the crushing bodies surrounding them at all angles. His eyes kept scanning the masses, desperate to find at least someone he knew, and when he spotted Historia’s long blonde hair near the hallway, well, he couldn’t have run to her fast enough.

“Historia!” he yelled. She turned and grinned. Her cheeks were already flushed, which meant she’d definitely been drinking, as he expected, and a bit of her eyeliner was smudged. Behind her Ymir and Reiner were too busy arguing about God knows what to even notice their arrival. 

“Guys!” she shouted, the wine in her cup sloshing around as she skipped over to him. “I knew you’d be late, but I didn’t expect you to be this late.”

“Sorry,” Armin said sheepishly. “There was a bit of traffic.”

“Mhmmm. Just traffic.”

“Believe me or don’t. What I’m interested in is the fact that you have the audacity to think that this is casual, you fucking liar.”

She took another large swing of her drink, and Armin grimaced. She usually wasn’t this reckless, but parties tended to bring out the wilder and more careless side of her; she and Connie were very much alike in that aspect. “It was. Then Connie posted some shit on his instagram story, and the next thing I know there’s, like, fifty billion people outside my door. Ymir almost strangled him.”

“You don’t seem to be complaining,” Eren commented. She just shrugged.

“A party’s a party. Plus, it’s new years. This is the time to get wasted. Which reminds me,” she shoved her cup into Armin’s free hand. “Go on, drink up. I could see you eyeing it.”

Armin glanced at the cup, then at Eren, whose brows were furrowed. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t a little tempted — the last time he’d drank any sort of alcohol was at Historia’s party two months ago, and they all knew how that turned out. But a small sip couldn’t hurt, right? He wasn’t that much of a lightweight.

Eren squeezed his hand three times. Are you sure? Armin gave him a small smile, and Eren nodded.

“I’ll have a sip, but that’s it.”

She waved her hand as a way to hurry him up, and he hesitantly placed the clean side of the cup to his lips, wincing slightly at the small drop of dry wine hitting his tongue and trickling down his throat.

“Is that it?” she asked. “Because I want more.”

“Don’t give yourself alcohol poisoning,” he sighed as he handed her back the cup.

“I love how you’re the one talking right now, as if—”

“Bye, Tori,” he said loudly, dragging Eren with him in the opposite direction before she could finish. “Jesus. She’s so insufferable when she’s drunk.”

“I wonder who that reminds me of?” Eren asked sarcastically, and Armin shot him a look. “Can’t seem to put my finger on it…”

“Thin ice, Jeager. Thin fucking ice.”

“You’ve had one sip of wine and you’re already staring at me like you wanna murder me,” Eren snickered. “Which reminds me — no kissing tonight, okay? Not until you drink water, at least.”

Armin tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. “What? Why? I mean, obviously, it’s your choice—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Eren said quickly. Suddenly, someone almost bumped straight into Armin’s side, but Eren pulled him out of the way just in time, his hand still resting snugly against Armin’s hip even when the person stumbled away. It made Armin’s heart soar so high he could almost taste the beats it was emitting. “For the —” he took a deep breath. “Anyways. As I was saying, I want to kiss you, but you’ve got alcohol in your system now, and I don’t. Even if it’s a little, I’m not risking anything.”

Oh, you perfect, horrible, beautiful human being, Armin thought desperately. He gave it his all not to pull Eren down and kiss him senseless, and although that was what he wanted to do the most, he respected Eren’s wishes, even if he thought he felt perfectly normal. “Now you’re just making it harder not to.”

“Sorry,” Eren said, but he didn’t sound sorry at all, a small smile forming on his lips. “Hey, do you wanna go outside? I think there’ll be less people there.”

“Please.”

Historia’s backyard was still a little full, but it was nowhere near as much as inside her house. A few people were swimming in the pool, even though it was almost negative-degree weather, but most were hanging out at a drink stand Historia must’ve set up earlier, dunking their cups into the bowl of punch and chattering about this and that. Armin and Eren opted to sit on the wooden stairs near the door, their knees and shoulders touching, which was enough to ward away the cold for Armin. 

“I still don’t get how Historia managed to get this many people in her house without it exploding,” Eren muttered, and Armin giggled. “I’m serious! What if Connie gave her, like, lessons or something.”

“Lessons,” Armin snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all. Those two are fucking menaces when they get together.”

“Them and Ymir.”

“Ymir’s actually calmer, surprisingly.”

“Nuh uh. She’s the type that hits you when you’re not looking.”

“Like the prank drink.”

Eren shuddered as if Armin had just recounted the most traumatizing experience of his entire life. “I still remember the taste. That shit was nasty.”

“I honestly want to try it, at some point,” Armin said, and Eren looked at him like he was crazy.

“You’d willingly drink that thing?”

“You would have to get me super fucked up beforehand, but yeah.”

“Oh my God,” Eren laughed. “Okay, I’d actually wanna see that. It might be, like, the highlight of our lives, or something.”

“The highlight of our lives?”

“Yeah. You know those stories our parents tell us about their youth and shit? That’s gonna be one of those stories.”

“I don’t think it’d be a good idea to tell our kids about how piss-drunk I got at a party, Eren,” Armin mused, and then he realized what he just said, how he said it, and his cheeks began to burn. “I mean — you know, kids in general, not, like, ours, but — er, yeah. Um.”

Eren looked a bit puzzled, but he just shrugged. “Well, yeah. I meant kids. In general.”

“Mhm, mhm. Kids. Totally. That’s cool. Really exciting.”

Silence loomed over them for a few beats, and Armin was actually considering whether or not to bolt to the pool and fling himself into the water, when Eren coughed. “Would you — you know. Ever want any?”

“Er,” Armin said, not quite expecting those words to come out of his mouth. He’d honestly thought Eren was just going to tease him about his stuttering, but the question was genuine. Curious. Like he really cared about what Armin was going to say next. “I mean, I’ve never really thought about it. Maybe. Depends on who I’m with.”

“Who you’re with?”

“Yeah.” Armin forced his gaze to his hands, watching the way he started involuntarily fiddling with the tips of his nails. “If they wanted any, I would. But I don’t know. I probably won’t give it any thought until it gets to that point. Do you?”

“Yeah, I think,” Eren murmured. Armin suddenly pictured Eren with someone else, having a family, maybe even buying some stupidly big, corny-looking house in the suburbs, and felt a particularly painful stab in his chest. “Only with one person, though.”

“Huh?”

“There’s only one person I’d ever want them with,” he said quietly, his eyes flickering up to meet Armin’s. “But I don’t think it’ll happen.”

“Oh.” Oh.

Eren likes someone?

Armin blinked. Let the information sink in. Eren likes someone.

Eren likes someone that isn’t me.

He should’ve seen it coming. Truly, he’d been stupid to think otherwise, because this arrangement wouldn’t last forever, would it? Armin was just a small blip in Eren’s life — he wasn’t the end goal, not like how Eren was for him. This entire thing was just to throw their friends off, to avoid the same drama from last year happening again, and here Armin was, spiraling and letting himself fall so deep there was nothing that could stop him, while Eren was probably holding himself back for his sake.

Mutually exclusive. Those words Eren had said to him a month ago echoed in his ears, and Armin swallowed. It’s fake, but mutually exclusive.

Apparently not mutually exclusive in every way, is it?

“Well, maybe it will,” Armin forced out, smiling tightly. “Whoever they are, I’m sure they feel the same.”

Eren laughed, like what Armin just said was ridiculous, but it only made him want to shut down and curl into a ball even more. “Yeah, no. Definitely not. They’ve made that pretty clear.”

Be supportive. Keep encouraging him, so he can’t know. “And how do you know that? I may not know who they are, but asking doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.”

Liar. Liar, liar, liar.

“Uh.” Eren flushed, then looked away. “You do know them. Really well, actually.”

So it’s someone in our friend group? But Armin couldn’t really see Eren liking anyone they were good friends with — every single one of them was in a relationship, except for Connie, but he himself had proudly stated that he preferred it that way multiple times. Could that be what Eren meant? That Connie didn’t want to be with anyone, and therefore his chances were slim to none?

Just stop. His head was starting to hurt, and so was his heart and stomach. Trying to put together the pieces of Eren’s personal feelings was both invasive and, again, none of his business. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. Things were going to end soon, whether he liked it or not, and he was just going to have to deal with it. Whoever Eren liked wasn’t something he should’ve been concerned with. If he kept trying to guess, he’d make himself sick, and then he’d probably throw up or do something even more embarrassing and he really didn’t want Eren to see that. He’d been pathetic enough already.

“Okay. I won’t ask who it is. But I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Armin stood and brushed the non-existent dust from his pants. “We should go inside. It’s ten minutes until the final countdown, and I know Mikasa’s probably looking for us.”

“Uh huh.” Eren frowned. “You okay, ‘Min? You look a bit queasy.”

“I’m fine. I think I just need to get some water,” Armin said stiffly. “It’d be kind of weird if we didn’t do the new years kiss, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eren grinned, pepping up, but Armin still felt like he was wilting, not even feeling better when Eren tugged at his hand. It’s not real. None of this is real. It’s all for show. 

Eren doesn’t love me anymore.

Just as he’d predicted, Mikasa did end up calling his phone and asked him to meet the rest of them inside near the kitchen. She wasn’t nearly as drunk as he expected her to be, but the others were well beyond the brink of pissed; Connie was slurring so much he was basically incoherent, at this point. Ymir was carrying Historia bridal style, for some reason, and Reiner kept trying to kick her shins and cause her arms to give out. Annie had passed out in Hitch’s arms — she was the only one besides Armin and Eren that was somewhat sober — and Jean and Sasha were screaming along to the song that was playing. Marco and Bertholdt were taking turns slapping each other’s wrists.

If Armin weren’t so gloomy, he would’ve filmed every single thing, but he just tried to focus on the fact that he was going to have to kiss Eren soon, like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t just found out that he had feelings for someone else, and that he was going to be left behind, all because he’d fucked up one year ago and ended things between them. He almost grabbed Mikasa’s drink from her hand and downed it, but restrained himself.

“I’m only saying this now, because I know Eren’s going to hog you as soon as we start counting down from ten,” Mikasa said suddenly, and Armin had to fight the urge to scream. “But I love you, ‘Min. Thank you for being one of the reasons this past year and every one before that has been so great.”

“Miks,” Armin said helplessly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her close. She buried her face in his chest, and he almost started sobbing like a baby. “I love you so much.” Then, a little lower, he whispered, “and you’re my favorite. Don’t let anyone else try to say otherwise.”

She pulled back, grinning, and kissed his temple. “I better be, you little shit.”

“Forever and always. That’ll never change.”

“Awww,” Eren cooed from behind. “That was so cute. I’m gonna barf.”

“Shut up, Jeager,” Mikasa retorted. “I love you, too, though.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll remind you of that the next time you yell at me.”

“If I yell at you, it’s for good reason.”

“Two minutes!” Jean abruptly screamed. Mikasa gave one last kiss to Armin’s cheek, then went to get Sasha, who was babbling about setting up the countdown on the speaker. Eren tapped his shoulder, and Armin turned to face him, tilting his head up so that they were at eye-level. He felt Eren’s thumb nudge the inside of his palm, and he harshly swallowed.

“You think you drank enough water to flush out the wine from your system?” Eren asked softly. Armin nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, I never felt weird in the first place, but I can’t taste it anymore.”

Eren smiled and cupped Armin’s cheek. “Good.”

I love you, Armin thought helplessly, his pulse rising at the way Eren pulled him a tiny bit closer. I love you so much it hurts. Please.

Don’t do this to me.

“We could do a practice run,” Eren said half-jokingly. “May as well perfect the technique, and all that shit.”

“Perfect the technique,” Armin repeated quietly. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Yup,” Eren grinned, and he closed the gap between them, one of his hands moving up to thread itself through Armin’s hair. He let out a small gasp at the incoming tug, then pressed impossibly closer, resting his hands against Eren’s chest.

Armin thought he was going to explode with the way Eren was kissing him so deeply, that it was almost easy to forget his earlier confession. But the painful reminder smacked Armin in the face, and he stilled, feeling his entire body freeze up. Eren pulled away, his mouth moving, but everything he said was muffled in Armin’s ears and lost in the swarm of people surrounding them. He met Eren’s eyes, so green even in the low light.

And that’s when it came out of him.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, prying away from Eren’s grip immediately. Eren said something else, but Armin was already bolting. He didn’t pay attention to where he was going. Not that it mattered. What did matter was getting out of there; away from the people, from his friends, from Eren. All of it was too much for him to handle. He didn’t even feel like he was in his own body, just an empty entity wandering the solemn plains of Historia’s house, feeling a little more alive once his hand curled around the knob of the front door, pushing it open and letting the fresh, cold air greet him with open arms. 

He stumbled down the steps, but before he could make it any further, a hand gripped his shoulder, holding him steady. “Armin.”

“Let me go, Eren,” he rasped. Eren turned him so that they were facing each other again; his eyes were wild, frantic, his grip tightening as if that was the only thing linking him back to reality. Armin didn’t understand it. Why did Eren care? He didn’t like Armin anyway, so him leaving wouldn’t be doing any harm. “Eren. Please.”

“C’mon, please, let’s talk about this—” Eren tried, but Armin forced his hand away. “Please. I don’t get it.”

“I said it, didn’t I?” Armin said desperately. Eren reached for his hand, and he didn’t have the heart to push him away. Couldn’t. “I can’t do this anymore. None of this—” he gestured between them—“none of the kissing, or touching. I can’t.”

“Why?” Eren sounded like he was trying his all to hold it together, and, frankly, it broke Armin’s heart. But he had to do this, for both of their sakes. It was what was best. “Please, Armin, just tell me—I did something, didn’t I? I said the wrong thing and—”

“No,” Armin whispered. He squeezed Eren’s hand. “It’s just me.”

“Don’t go pulling that shit on me. Please, ‘Min, let’s just talk, we can—”

“We can what, Eren?” Armin asked miserably. “Just keep pretending? It’s been a few months, hasn’t it? The agreement’s useless. We’ve convinced everyone.”

“It’s not—”

“Eren,” Armin said softly. He let go of his hand. “It’s done. I can’t do it anymore.”

“You’re not giving me actual reasons!” Eren took in a visible, shaky breath. “It’s just like last time, when we fought and didn’t even get a chance to talk before you were leaving. Please.”

“TEN!” The shouts of the countdown started inside. Armin tasted his tears before he felt them, salt stinging the corner of his mouth. “It’s not the same for me, Eren. This just needs to end, for both our sakes.”

“I just need an explanation. Please. We can do it for another month—”

“NINE!”

“—Just another month.”

“It’s not going to work, we’re just pretending. It’s killing me, Eren.”

“EIGHT!”

Eren was crying, too, tears streaming down his face in waves. “Armin. I’m begging you. Just come back inside, we can figure this out—”

“SEVEN!”

“Eren. It’s no use. Things will just get worse if we continue this, okay?”

He managed to walk a few steps away, his legs feeling like lead. Don’t follow me. Please don’t.

“SIX!”

“I can’t do this again, Armin,” Eren choked out. Armin paused. “I can’t. You can’t do this to me again. I won’t be able to survive it.”

Armin squeezed his eyes shut. “Trust me, Eren, this is what’s best for both of us. I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t think that.”

“FIVE!”

“It’s not, and you know it isn’t.”

“FOUR!”

A small sob let loose from Armin’s throat. “All of this is fake. It’s all fake! This shouldn’t even be a big deal. It’s like terminating a fucking contract.”

“THREE!”

“But—” Armin tried walking again, but Eren grabbed his arm. “Armin. You didn’t bring your car. Please, let’s just go inside—”

“TWO!”

“Bye, Eren,” Armin whispered. 

“ONE!”

“Armin—”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Armin pulled back his arm, and he bolted—ignoring Eren’s agonized shouts of his name, ignoring the cheers coming from inside—in the direction of his parents’ house, because that was all he could do. It was all the adrenaline rushing through his veins would allow him to.

He didn’t know how long he ran for. The drive to Historia’s was usually around ten minutes or so, so he guessed he’d been going for almost thirty. His house was slowly starting to come into view, and he willed himself to keep going. It was cold, he was crying, and all he wanted right now was to curl up underneath the covers of his bed and sob until it killed him. 

He unlocked the front door, and was surprised to see that the light was still on. Levi looked up from the couch, a book in his hand, but Erwin wasn’t there, probably upstairs sleeping. 

“Armin? What are you—” he cut himself off, eyes wide, and shut the book immediately, rushing over and placing his hands on Armin’s shoulders. “‘Min, what happened?”

“Pa,” Armin croaked, and then he choked, his knees giving out. Levi wrapped his arms around him, gently helping him fall to the floor, and the sobs ripped out of him were so painful and gut-wrenching he thought he was going to throw up everything left in his stomach. Levi just kept squeezing him tightly against his chest, light, comforting kisses being pressed to the top of his head. But it didn’t help. Nothing would be able to stop Armin from crumbling, from becoming the very shell of what he used to be. A person without Eren in their life. He didn’t even know who that was.

“Shhh, shhh,” Levi murmured, rocking them back and forth. Armin shook so badly he could barely feel any place on his body. “‘Min, what happened? How the hell did you get back here?”

“Ran,” Armin gasped. “I messed up, Pa. I messed up so bad.”

I messed up.

Chapter Text

Cold.

That was what ran through Armin’s body as his eyes fluttered open, shaking his shoulders and eating away at the layers of his skin. It was what he’d been greeted with in every waking moment during the past few days — or hours, or minutes. He didn’t know; couldn’t, really, because he refused to get out of bed and check his phone or do anything else that required moving and getting up. But what he did know was that it was bright outside, because tiny particles of light filtered through the bottom of his drawn curtains. It was what woke him up — that, the sound of his door opening, and the gentle placement of something on his bedside table a few minutes ago.

He forced himself to turn from facing the wall, at least, although that felt like running a million miles in itself. A frown formed on his lips. The room was dark, even with the few bits of light, but he could see the small teacup only an arm’s reach away, steam still rising from its top. Levi must’ve made it for him, milky and sweet, just the way he liked it. A pang of hurt sounded in his chest, and he thought he was going to start sobbing all over again. If he had any tears left to spare, at least.

Other than silently berating himself, lazing around, and staring at the wall like a pathetic, no-good, lazy asshole, of course he also had to go and make his parents’ lives harder by reverting back to the same Armin from last year — distant, hollow, not leaving his room unless he absolutely had to, all without even telling them what exactly had happened on new years. But that’s what he’d predicted, wasn’t it? It’s what he’d predicted would happen since the start of that stupid fucking arrangement, and yet he still went ahead and did it anyway. 

He willed the stinging behind his eyes to go away, because he was tired of crying. Crying wouldn’t bring Eren back, no matter how much he did it, because he was the one who ended things. Again. If anything, he should be glad — now he wasn’t holding Eren back from confessing his feelings to whoever he liked, and Armin could start trying to move on with his life, because any chance he had with Eren was gone now, along with any shot he had at being happy again. 

Who am I fucking kidding? He thought miserably. Sitting up slightly, he carefully grabbed the teacup by its top — Levi had taught him to do that when he was little, something about making sure the cup-holder wouldn’t chip off  — and pressed it to his mouth, the aching roar of his stomach calming slightly once he took a sip of the sweet, milky substance. Then he heard Erwin’s voice booming downstairs, and he swallowed.

Maybe… Maybe he should go and thank them. For everything. Procrastinating it just because he felt (and looked) like shit was pointless; they’d seen him in worse states, after all. And it was the least he could do instead of moping around and doing nothing.

He winced when the tips of his toes grazed the cool, wooden surface of the floor, cautious not to spill the tea as he slowly made his way over to the door and creaked it open. The second his foot hit the first step of the stairs, Erwin went quiet, and he could only imagine the things he and Levi were mouthing to each other in an attempt to come up with some sort of plan to settle things down. Armin managed a small, amused smile at that. 

They were sitting on the couch in the living room, pretending to sip their tea, but Armin knew they’d been warily eyeing the staircase a mere second ago. He cleared his throat, and both of their shoulders tensed up. “Hi, guys.”

Erwin turned his head with a smile that told Armin he was trying his hardest not to cry at the sight of him. That was what he hated the most about putting them through his shit last time — it was hard for them, too, to see him all mopey like this. Especially Erwin, who didn’t look it at first, but proudly wore his heart on his sleeve, much like Armin did.

“Hi, love. How are you feeling?”

“Er,” Armin coughed, not quite sure how he was supposed to say I feel like I’ve just been hit by a thousand trucks, and I kind of wish all of them killed me ten times over without actually saying it. “I actually don’t know?”

Erwin’s brows pulled together, and before Armin could quickly clarify what he meant, Levi patted the empty space between them. “Come sit. I have a coaster you can put your tea on.”

Armin shuffled to the couch and slowly sat, letting his head fall against Erwin’s shoulder. Erwin gently carded a free hand through his hair, the way he’d always done whenever Armin came to him upset. Levi took the cup from Armin’s hands and placed it on the table. 

The three of them stayed like that for a few minutes, without a word, before Levi cleared his throat. “So—”

“I’m sorry,” Armin blurted out. Erwin’s hand stilled. “For just shutting down. And making you deal with me again. And—”

“Armin,” Erwin interrupted. “First of all, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You’re our son. It’s our job to take care of you. We do it because we love you.”

“Second,” Levi added, “we just want to know what happened, so we can help, yeah? Because running for thirty minutes in the cold isn’t exactly a normal response to a tame situation.”

Armin shut his eyes, feeling his head throb with that familiar pain as tears welled up behind his eyelids again. Bless his parents, really. He couldn’t have wished for better ones in any other lifetime. “It’s just so stupid. And it’s all my fault.”

“Armin. It’s obviously not stupid, because it’s gotten you so worked up you haven’t left your room for a day and a half,” Levi sighed. “You won’t even eat, for Christ’s sake. The last time this happened—”

“Levi,” Erwin warned. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not insinuating anything, I’m just saying—”

“I broke up with Eren,” Armin whispered. Levi clamped his mouth shut, and Armin couldn’t see Erwin’s face, but the small thump against his head indicated that his jaw had definitely dropped. “Again. I broke up with him again.”

Silence stretched between them for a few moments. Levi reached for his hand, and Armin squeezed so hard his knuckles turned white. So. That wasn’t nearly as agonizing as he thought it’d be, but, still. The disappointment lingering in the air was clear enough. It made him want to bolt back upstairs into the safety of the blankets, but he held his ground, because running away from this would be cowardly, and he refused to be any more pathetic.

“Well,” Levi said carefully. “Did he do something?”

“No.”

“Okay. Did you have another fight?”

“It’s complicated. Like, really fucking complicated. Excuse my language.”

Levi shared a glance with Erwin, before he asked, “did you do something?”

Armin’s gaze moved to the floor. “...Yes.”

“Huh.” Levi blew out a breath. “It must’ve been really stupid, then.”

Erwin shot him a look. “Levi.”

“It’s fine, Dad. He’s right,” Armin mumbled, stopping Levi’s incoming retort. “It’s not even funny how much I messed up. Like, think of the most royal fuck-up you can think of, and what I did is ten times worse than that.”

“Jesus. What the hell did you do?”

“I broke up with him, that’s what.” 

“Okay, but why?”

Armin bit his lip. “Because.”

“Because…?”

He buried his face in Erwin’s shoulder, not trusting himself to face either of them without sobbing like an idiot. “I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell us?”

“Yup.”

“And have you told Historia?”

“Nope.”

He heard Levi click his tongue. “That’s just great.”

“I’m sorry,” Armin whispered, because he didn’t know what else to say. He felt Erwin kiss the top of his head.

“Shh. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, okay? We’re just here if you ever want to vent about it, or if you need advice.”

“Because, again, that’s what we’re made for,” Levi reminded him. “Which brings me to my next point — you have to check your phone.”

“Yeah, that’s a hard no.”

“Armin—”

“I can’t.”

“Your sister’s been worried sick,” Erwin told him, and guilt overtook Armin immediately. “Do you know how many times she’s called in the past hour alone? Fifty. That’s more times than she’s ever called me in my life.”

“And don’t even get me started on Mikasa. I’m this close to blocking her number,” Levi said seriously. “Just text them, at least. You don’t even have to look at anything else.”

“That’s not how phones work, Pa,” Armin sighed. “I see every single notification I get, whether I want to or not, and I know they’re not the only ones who tried getting through to me.”

Levi pursed his lips. “You’re afraid you’re going to get a text from Eren? Is that it?”

“Obviously,” Armin muttered, trying his hardest not to tense up at the mention of Eren’s name.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but the boy’s persistent. It’s almost inevitable that you got at least ten messages.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Pa.”

Levi just shrugged. “There’s no use in lying if it doesn’t help anyone. Listen, if you think you fucked up so bad, why don’t you just respond? He obviously doesn’t want things to end, but that’s just from what I’ve noticed over the past few months or so. It won’t hurt to talk.”

Armin shook his head. “Again, it’s not that simple.”

“It’s just ‘complicated?’”

“Mhm. Glad you’re catching on.”

“Jesus. Complicated this, complicated that,” Levi murmured, taking a small sip of his tea. “This fucking generation. What the hell happened to sharing your feelings and all that shit?”

Erwin laughed, and Armin couldn’t help but grin. “You’re acting like you didn’t try to break up with me three times solely because—”

“Erwin.”

“No, no, let him finish,” Armin said innocently. Levi tried to look annoyed, but Armin knew he was secretly amused as well, from the way the corner of his mouth slightly curled up. “I thought we were supposed to be talking about our feelings.”

“You’re such a little shit.”

“I’m just using your logic, so. Do with that what you will.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Levi grumbled. “Don’t think I’m not catching on to the fact that you’re stalling.”

“I am stalling, actually, and I’m proud.”

“Armin,” Erwin said with a sigh. “Sometimes I genuinely think you’re trying to sabotage your own happiness.”

“Or I’m just being logical, but whatever you say, Dad.”

“I think logic is the last thing on your mind right now, darling.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Armin grumbled as he leaned forward and grabbed his teacup from the coffee table. “Thank you guys, though. Seriously, for everything.”

Erwin chuckled and ruffled his hair before he stood. “Love you, Armin.”

“Check your phone,” Levi said, and Armin waved his hand.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you guys, too.”

The darkness that greeted him in his bedroom had him blinking rapidly for a few seconds, but it was welcome all the same, a nice contrast to the light downstairs that had started to give him a headache. He flopped himself face down onto the bed and groaned. Why did his parents always have to be so fucking perceptive? Unfortunately, they’d kind of had a point — ignoring Eren’s hypothetical messages was one thing, but purposefully tuning out Historia and Mikasa was a stupid move on his part. They’d probably been worried sick, finding out he’d ran away on new years in the cold, and thinking of them in any sort of distress sent a few uncomfortable churns in his stomach. Of course, leave it up to him to get so caught up in his own shit and selfish pity that he unintentionally causes harm to the people he cares about the most. 

He turned his head, cheek still mushed into the pillows, and glanced at his bedside table with a frown. After he’d woken up yesterday, bed-ridden and on the verge of sickness from new years, he’d turned his phone on silent, yelled for Levi, and had asked him to shove it into the top drawer so it was completely out of his sight. Whether it was still charged or not, he had no clue, but he’d just have to force himself to turn it on one way or another, because if Historia couldn’t get to him through a phone, she could very well burst into his room at any given moment if his parents let her, and just the thought of that was absolutely fucking terrifying.

Slowly, he pulled the drawer open and grabbed his phone from inside. He turned it on, the white light hitting him square in the face, and when he could see again after a moment, his eyes trailed to the top, surprised to see that it still had 7% left. The sight of a billion notifications at the bottom wasn’t as surprising, however, and made his chest feel like it was being compressed by a pressure pad, but he took a deep breath to steady himself. You can do this.

It’s just Historia and Mikasa. Not Eren. Not anyone else.

You can do this.

He pressed the messages app, and his breath hitched. At the very top of his screen was Eren’s name, and, just as Levi had predicted, about fourteen unread messages flashed blue beside it. Below it was Mikasa and Historia respectively, and also their spams in the group chat with just the three of them, but he barely paid attention to anything that dipped lower than that. Without thinking, his thumb hovered over Eren’s contact.

Don’t, said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Historia, for some reason. You’ll only make it worse.

Shut up, he thought. You’re not even here. You can’t tell me what to do.

But you’re being an idiot.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, curiosity and the need to see getting the better of him as he clicked the chat. Then he scrolled down and regretted it immediately.

Eren ❤️(2 days ago, 12:03 a.m.)

armin please

we don’t even have to talk okay??? but it’s cold out and not safe

please come back, at least let me drive you home

Missed call on January 1st, 12:04 a.m.

armin please just let me know you’re okay

Eren ❤️(2 days ago, 12:31 a.m.)

min i’m getting really fucking worried

historia’s trying to call levi but he said you weren’t home yet

please pick up 

Missed call on January 1st, 12:31 a.m.

Eren ❤️(2 days ago, 12:40 a.m.)

she told me you’re home

i just wanna know if something triggered this

did i say something wrong? or did someone say something to you?

it doesn’t matter

i hope you’re okay

i’m waiting whenever you wanna talk, okay? just say the word and i'll be there and we can talk

just please text me back at some point

“Shit,” Armin whispered, any and all intentions of texting Historia and Mikasa back flying out the window as he shut his phone off and flung it back onto the bedside table, not even bringing himself to care if he broke it or not before he bursted into tears and started sobbing into his pillow. Fuck. He was so fucking stupid. Why did he have to run off like an idiot, without even bothering to try and explain things to Eren? He deserved to know the truth, at least, that Armin still loved him and wanted to be his real boyfriend, not keep up all this fake bullshit and pretend like nothing was wrong between them. Now he’d lost his chance — surely Eren was furious with him for being radio silent, and Armin couldn’t blame him one bit. There was no way he’d ever forgive him for this; any relatively sane person wouldn’t. 

He didn’t know how long he cried for, but at some point, the tears stopped and were replaced with throbbing pain against the back of his eyelids, and he buried himself underneath the covers once again. Yeah, there was no way he was picking up his phone again — it was time to just accept his fate and expect Historia’s arrival sooner or later. Maybe she would actually end up killing him and putting him out of his misery once and for all, and that sounded more appealing than anything else.

As if fate had suddenly decided to grant him some sort of satisfaction, he heard the door creak open after what felt like years of just lying there in agonizing pain — for all he knew, it could’ve been at least half a day. Thinking it was Levi, he murmured, “Pa, I already checked my phone. And I’m not hungry.”

“First of all, you’re a fucking liar. Second, I’m not Pa.”

He shot up in an instant, ignoring the ache traveling throughout his body from all the uncomfortable positions he’d been laying in, and gulped. Historia was standing in the doorway, looking more cross than he’d ever seen her in his life, and not the funny kind — no, her brows were set in an almost straight line across her temples, her lips were pursed, and her gaze was hard and a little icy. The only thing Armin felt a little good about was the sight of Freya squirming in her arms, attempting to break free of her hold and waddle her way over to Armin’s bed. She meowed, and Historia shot her a look. “Uh uh. What did we talk about on the way here? No Armin until he explains what the fuck happened and why he’s been ignoring me for three days straight.”

“It’s been three days already?” Armin asked. “Huh. I must’ve fallen asleep, then.”

“Freya’s the only thing keeping me from strangling you right now, just so you know,” she said, and Freya meowed again. “That’s why I brought her. And also because I knew you’d be moping and I figured you’d want to hold her.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry. I, er, I didn’t really mean to ignore you. Or Mikasa. I’ve just been…” he gestured to his messy bed. “As you can see.”

Historia sighed, then sat next to him on the edge of the bed, relenting and handing Freya to him despite her earlier disapproval. He gingerly held her against his chest, smiling at the little purrs she started letting out as he scratched her head. “Hi, my love. I missed you.”

“Look at her. She’s already falling asleep, the little shit,” Historia whispered, and he chuckled. Silence settled between them for a few moments, other than Freya’s purring and occasional meows, before Historia cleared her throat. “So.”

“So.”

“First things first,” she started. “I’m not actually mad at you, okay? I was just really worried — I genuinely thought you’d died, or something, when you didn’t pick up on new years.” Her shoulders slumped, and Armin frowned. “I tried coming over here the morning after, you know, but Pa and Dad wouldn’t let me. They said you had to be left alone for at least a day, which I thought was stupid, but whatever.”

“I asked them to do that,” he murmured. “Not let anyone over here, I mean. It wasn’t you specifically.”

“I know that. And I’m not asking you to justify it, yeah? I get why you needed space.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I just wanna know what caused you to run for thirty fucking minutes in the cold all the way home without telling anyone.”

“It’s really stupid,” he whispered, not daring to meet her gaze, because if he did, he knew he’d let his guard down and just spill everything out at once. “Like, I think you might actually try to murder me if I tell you.”

“Okay, that’s, like, really bad,” she agreed. “So on a scale of one to ten…”

“One billion.”

“Jesus, Armin.”

“I know,” he said miserably. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he let his cheek fall against her hair. 

“Luckily for you, I happen to be a pretty good listener,” she said, and a small laugh came from the back of his throat. “You know I’d never really think you were stupid, right?”

“I’m serious, Tori, this might actually melt your brain.”

“Whatever,” she muttered. “But I know keeping it in might melt your brain, so at least if you say it out loud, our brains will melt together.”

“How poetic,” he said flatly, and she giggled. “Maybe we’ll also unlock twin telepathy, or some shit. Courtesy of melted brain goo.”

“Gross.”

“You’re still a hundred percent sure you wanna hear this?”

“I’m a hundred percent sure I’ll smack you if you don’t spit it out,” she said seriously, and he clicked his tongue. “So tell me.”

“Okay.” He inhaled sharply. “I broke up with Eren again.”

“Wha—”

“But not in the way that you think.” He coughed, not really sure how he was supposed to just say it. But this was his sister — if there was anyone he trusted with something like this, it was her. “We were kind of… never together in the first place?”

Silence. And then, “I don’t believe you.”

“...Excuse me?”

She sat up, looking at him like he was crazy. “Nuh uh. I don’t believe you.”

“Tori, I’m not lying. We literally weren’t together.”

“Are you okay?” She sounded genuinely concerned, placing her palm against his forehead as if she was checking for a fever. “Do you feel warm at all?”

“Tori.” He shook her hand off. “I’m being serious, okay? It was fake. All of it wasn’t real.”

She blinked. Slowly. “So you’re saying…?”

“Eren and I fake dated for almost three months, yes.”

“You… and Eren,” she said carefully, sounding like she still wasn’t quite processing what he was saying. “As in, Eren Jeager. Like, the guy you’ve been basically in love with since the fifth grade—”

“Mhm.”

“—and who you dated for four years—”

“Yup.”

“—and the one who made you act like you were dying for a full year because you broke up? The one you told me you got back together with? That Eren Jeager?”

“It’s not like his name is common, Historia. Also, we don’t know any other Eren Jeagers, as far as I’m aware.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, and Armin would’ve laughed at the absolutely gobsmacked look on her face if not for the fact that he was ninety-nine percent sure she was contemplating whether or not to bash his head into the wall. “I don’t know if I should kill you or start screaming.”

“Scream, maybe?” 

She grabbed his pillow and smacked his head with it, hard. Freya meowed, and he yelped. “Ow, Tori!”

“You fucking idiot,” she screeched. “Holy fucking shit. Oh my God, I should’ve listened to you, my brain is melting, there’s actually no way—”

“If you could just let me explain—”

“What is there to explain, Armin? Why the fuck would you fake date? You slept together, for God’s sake! One conversation could’ve solved everything, but God forbid—”

“If it helps, I wasn’t the one who came up with the plan?” he tried. She smacked his head again. “You’re going to give me a concussion, Tori. Jesus.”

“Why? Just why?” She tossed the pillow to the side and rubbed her eyes. “So, what, you’re saying you and Eren lied to me and everyone else for three months straight?”

“That’s about it, yeah.”

“For what reason, exactly? I know it’s gonna be dumb either way, but I still wanna fucking hear it, you little bitch.”

He began running his fingers through Freya’s soft brown fur, and she purred, the sound calming him down at least a bit. “Well, I guess we initially thought it’d cause less drama, in a way. Like, if we just pretended nothing happened, then the group would fall back into the same chaos as last time, and that was the last thing both of us wanted.”

She looked like she was going to smack him again. “You thought fake dating would cause less drama?”

“See, that’s what I thought at first, but he somehow managed to convince me it was a good idea, and my dumbass fucking fell for it,” he muttered. Historia, surprisingly, had the nerve to snort.

“I think you were just happy to have a fucked up chance of being with him again, but okay.”

“That’s the thing. I convinced myself that wasn’t it,” he whispered, and she frowned. “And then I spent the last few months falling for him. Again. So there you go.”

“Or,” she started slowly. “Maybe you’d never fallen out of love with him in the first place?” He stayed silent, and she gently patted his shoulder. “Listen, ‘Min. What did I tell you before? I know what you look like when you’re in love with someone. Especially when you’re mopey. The whole stupid act was so convincing because it was real.”

“For me,” he murmured, his chest beginning to ache. “Not for him.”

She eyed the pillow, her hands clenching and unclenching as if she were physically forcing herself not to grab it. “You know, Armin, you’re so smart that sometimes I forget how fucking stupid you can be.”

“That… literally makes no sense? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you really think that Eren actually lost feelings for you?”

Armin furrowed his brows. “I mean, yeah. The only reason he suggested it was to throw everyone else off. This wasn't even supposed to last more than a month.”

“For the fucking love,” she sighed. “Do I really have to be the one to spell it out for you every time?”

“No, but here you are. Voluntarily.”

“Shut up.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “Armin, I hate to be the one to say this to you, but you’re dead fucking wrong. About all of it.”

“You weren’t the one in it,” he said quietly. “All of it was just practice for him. Those were the words that came out of his mouth.”

“And who came up with it being practice?” He stayed silent, and she rolled her eyes. “Both of you are fucking idiots. Armin, the guy is in love with you. Like, stupidly in love with you. Why do you think he was the one that suggested all this in the first place? Or the one that, according to you, initiated everything?”

Well… he pursed his lips. Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, Eren was the one that started everything from the very beginning. The plan, then the hand holding at Historia’s place. The kiss at Connie’s. Almost kissing him in his parents’ pool. The practice touching. His reasoning for the arrangement was kind of dumb now, Armin realized that, but why would he even attempt to come up with something like that in the first place? Was it just an excuse to talk to Armin again, or something? To try and rekindle the cindered flame that’d burned out between them? 

What about the person he likes? Eren couldn’t have possibly been talking about him. But—

“I don’t know,” he said hopelessly, feeling tears prickle against his eyes. “I just— I don’t know.”

“Armin,” she said softly, patting his shoulder. “I’m gonna tell you something, okay? And I’m not saying this to make you feel bad or anything like that. It’s just to put things in perspective for you, so you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

“Yeah?”

She started fiddling with her fingers. “Okay, so. On new years, like, three minutes after the final countdown, I noticed you and Eren had left. I didn’t think anything was wrong, you know? Like, maybe you’d just snuck off to make out, or something gross.” 

“Really, Tori?”

“Let me finish,” she scolded, and he shut his mouth. “I checked the whole house, including the guest room, and when I finally went out to the front, I found Eren there, sitting on the front steps.” She gave him a look. “You wanna know what he was doing? Sobbing his fucking eyes out. Like, when I say sobbing, I mean he was heaving. It took Ymir and I, like, twenty minutes to calm him down, but all he managed to do was babble something about you leaving and running in the cold. It was really bad. I called Pa, and he said he’d wait to see if you showed up within the next ten minutes, but even that wasn’t enough to calm him down. I was freaking out, too, but I was so drunk it was kind of like a haze, and Ymir had to haul us both inside and into the guest room. We let him stay over because we didn’t trust him to make sensible decisions while he was driving.”

“Oh,” Armin whispered after a moment of quiet, feeling like he wanted to knock his head repeatedly into the wall. Thinking about Eren in such a state made his chest hurt so badly it almost felt like molten fire, and what was even worse, was that he was the reason for it. That was something he vowed to never forgive himself for. Ever.

“Yeah,” Historia said. “Calling him devastated is an understatement. But he wouldn’t tell us what was wrong, and I didn’t want to assume the worst, so I just waited till you’d call. But you didn’t. And now here we are.”

“That’s just great.”

“My point is,” she continued, “he didn’t do all that for nothing. I don’t know what was going through his head, but he loves you. More than you’ll ever realize, probably. Anyone with sense can see it.”

Armin swallowed, not really able to form any words. Historia must’ve clocked it, because she nudged his side, and he let his head fall onto her lap, repositioning Freya so that she sat snugly on the bed. Historia started running a hand through his hair, fumbling with the ends of blond locks just like she’d always done for as long as he would remember; it was a sacred ritual between them, always when the other was upset to such an extent. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Armin hiccuped after what felt like hours. “None of this — ending it, not talking — it doesn’t feel right.”

Historia hummed. “That’s because it’s not.”

“What if you’re wrong, Tori?” He sniffed. “What if, after I fucked up again, he doesn’t want me anymore? He has every right not to.”

“Let’s put it this way. If he did the same thing to you, then apologized, would you take him back?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. Without hesitation.

“There you go.” She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I do have one more question, though, even if I know what the answer’s gonna be.”

“Mhm?”

“Do you love him, Armin? Really love him? I know you told me before, but that was different. I need to hear it from you now.”

He took a shaky breath, then nodded. “Yeah. I love him, Tori. More than anything.”

She shook her head with a small laugh. “Okay, then. So tell him that.”

Shortly after, Levi called them for dinner, and Historia gingerly took Freya and helped him up. Although Armin didn’t exactly have an appetite after that little talk, he was grateful for the few moments he got to settle his thoughts.

So. Eren. He replayed Historia’s words over and over again in his head, trying his best not to picture a mental image of Eren in any sort of pain. He still couldn’t help but feel like she was being biased on his own behalf — she’d been really drunk that night, after all. Maybe she’d just made it up in her head, or conjured up some sort of drunken hallucination, but both of those options just seemed stupid. His sister was many things, but a liar definitely wasn’t one of them; she wouldn’t tell him something like that if she wasn’t a-hundred-percent sure it was true. And from what he remembered, Ymir hadn’t been that drunk, either, and she wouldn’t lie to Historia under any circumstances, so it had to be true. But what the hell was that supposed to mean? That Eren still loved him? The idea of that seemed so out of reach to Armin — like something he couldn’t quite grasp, or touch, or even think about without his mind splitting in half. Eren. Returning his feelings. It was so ridiculous he almost could’ve laughed, but also… it wasn’t exactly impossible, was it?

Maybe he just had to believe that.

“Mikasa’s coming now, by the way,” Erwin said, pulling Armin out of his thoughts. “So just prepare yourself.”

“You and Pa are both traitors.”

Levi shrugged. “Whatever. It’s about time we got to staging that intervention, anyway.”

Erwin ended up being right after all, because the doorbell rang a few minutes later, and Mikasa strided over to Armin the second Historia let her in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing him so tightly all the air vanished from his lungs. Then came the questions, spilling out of her with every inhale, and Armin couldn’t exactly explain everything in front of his parents, but he told her the gist of it — he broke up with Eren again, couldn’t say why, and that was that. He could tell she didn’t quite know how to let the information settle in her head, but Levi served them his lasagna a moment later, and her additional questions were thankfully halted. For now.

“Are you gonna tell her, or?” Historia asked as quietly as possible. Armin shook his head, because he was sure the full story would probably cause Mikasa’s brain to malfunction, or something, and Historia just sighed. 

By seven, the three of them were lying on the couch in the TV room, the silence not exactly awkward as they watched some corny romcom Mikasa had picked out, but it wasn’t comfortable, either. Armin knew that Mikasa wasn’t satisfied with the answers he’d given her earlier, and as bad as he felt about it, he still needed time to process everything, too. Telling Historia had taken most of his energy already.

Both of them left a few hours after that, but only after he made millions of promises that he’d call them tomorrow and let them know he was okay. His limbs were heavy as he treaded up the stairs, and when he flopped back onto his bed, still lingering with the smell of cat fur, he closed his eyes. Despite how tired he was, he didn’t sleep that night. Just tossed and turned. Thought of Eren, and his eyes, and how wild they’d looked back on new years. How they mirrored that same look he’d given him the night of their break-up, standing dumbstruck in the living room of their apartment as Armin swung open the door and ran for his life. That seemed to be a recurring theme, didn’t it? Armin was always running away, avoiding talking, instead of facing his own feelings. And it was going to eat him alive sooner or later.

“Morning,” Erwin smiled as Armin groggily walked down the stairs, completely exhausted from the almost sleep-less night before. “Everything okay?”

“Just thinking,” Armin said quietly. Erwin patted the top of his head.

“I know, love. But that’s good, isn’t it? Thinking leads to decisions, and I’m sure Historia said something that caused a lot of consideration.”

“I still can’t believe you let her in,” Armin muttered, the two of them making their way to the kitchen. Levi was inside cleaning plates, and he shot them both a look when they entered. “You know, I genuinely thought she was going to try and kill me. It was terrifying.”

“But she talked sense into you, didn’t she?” Levi asked, and Armin looked away.

“Maybe.”

“Do you see why we let her in, now?”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, hoisting himself up onto the kitchen island and sitting criss-crossed. Erwin joined Levi at the sink, and Levi used the hand that wasn’t completely covered in soap to pull him down by the collar of his shirt and kiss the bridge of his nose. Erwin softly laughed, pressing little kisses along the expanse of Levi’s jaw, and Levi turned their heads so that their mouths met for a brief, sweet second.

Armin blinked, suddenly feeling his chest constrict. For all his life, his parents’ love for each other had been something kind of other-worldly to him, in a way. It was something he admired, but it was also something unique, untouchable. He’d never seen anyone else love the way they loved — eternally, purely unconditionally, back and forth in a never-ending waltz. But at that moment? For the first time, they reminded him of something else; the life he wanted, with Eren. 

He wanted Eren. He wanted to have moments like this, where it was just them and the glaring light of morning and the small, ticklish kisses against each other’s cheeks. He wanted more than just four years — not even forever would be enough. He wanted to buy a house with him, to wake up next to him every day, to feel the soft press of his lips and smell his cologne and kiss him and just be. Be with each other, like they’d been carved to fit by the crevices in their hips. And he’d been so, so stupid to ever try and convince himself that he didn’t want any of it. 

“Oh my God,” he whispered. Levi and Erwin broke away from each other, and Levi arched a brow at him.

“What’s going on with you now?”

“Oh my God,” Armin repeated, much louder that time, and he jumped off the island and pulled both of them into a hug. Levi awkwardly patted his back with his soapy hand, a bit of water sticking to Armin’s shirt, but he couldn’t have cared less. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Er, I’m not quite sure what you’re thanking us for, but you’re welcome?” Erwin said, and Armin shook his head, embarrassingly feeling heat sting behind his eyelids.

“Everything. Just everything.” He smacked a kiss to Erwin’s cheek, then Levi’s. “Best parents ever. My life is fucking set.”

“Language, ‘Min,” Levi tutted, but his voice was laced with amusement and fondness. Armin broke away with a watery laugh.

“Sorry, Pa.” He ran a hand through his hair. I want to be with Eren. Of course. But he’d messed it up, hadn’t he? They were done again, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Except you can. Armin’s eyes lit up. You can fix things, idiot.

“I have to go. Like, right now, holy shit. ”

Erwin blinked. “Go? Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna fix things. I’m gonna go fix things and fucking clean up this whole mess,” Armin blurted out, not even thinking as he ran out of the kitchen and back to his room. He rummaged through his closet and grabbed a random assortment of gloves, a hat, and scarf, and tugged on his snow boots; the thought of changing out of his pajamas didn’t even cross his mind as he practically jumped back down the stairs and skipped to the door.

“Be careful!” Levi shouted. Armin shot him a thumbs up, then bolted outside. The door shut behind him, and that was when he realized he forgot his car keys, but at that moment, with his only goal being Eren, Eren, Eren, he just kept running down the slippery sidewalk in the direction of the university. He almost tripped on a few pebbles, but he managed to make it to the first stop-light, at least, very stupidly running across the street before the sign flashed green; the adrenaline rushing through every vein in his body made it hard to care. 

The muscles in his thighs, calves, and lower back ached with every click of his boots against the sidewalk, and, granted, he hadn’t run this much in a very long time, but he forced himself to move anyway, because any pain throbbing in his limbs would be worth it, if it meant he got to see Eren again. Even if he was rejected, at least he’d have done it. And that was the only thing that could keep him going in such dire circumstances.

One more light, he thought giddily, yelling a sorry! to one of the cars that almost hit him as he sped past. The university was almost in view, now, and he could see the signs pointing to the path that led upwards on the hill. By this point, he’d been going for almost twenty-five minutes, was sure about a million blisters had formed around the soles of his feet, and was seriously starting to regret not just driving his car. He allowed himself to stop for a moment at the university gate, panting so hard his chest burned, but after a minute, he started running again, this time in the direction of Eren’s apartment.

The wind had picked up, biting at his eyes and cheeks, and made it a lot harder to move, but he finally, finally made it to Eren’s building, almost crying in relief at the warm air that greeted him once he tumbled into the lobby. He clicked the elevator button five times, but it was so fucking slow, so slow that he just raced up the stairs instead, going up all seven flights until he was pushing through the large, metal door and sprinting down the hallway. Before he knew it, he was facing Eren’s door, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear him inside from how heavy his breathing was.

Knock. Armin’s fist hovered over the white-colored wood, and he harshly swallowed. Just knock, idiot.

You have to do this.

He held his breath, then hit his knuckles against the wood, hearing it echo even out there in the hallway. His heart was beating so quickly it vibrated in his ears, but he held his feet firmly against the ground. You can do this, you can do this—

The door swung open, and his breath caught in his throat. 

“Ymir, I told you, I’m fi—” Eren cut himself off, his jaw going slack as soon as the sight of Armin hit him. His hair was loose and a little disheveled, brown strands sticking out in that signature, staticky way that made Armin’s heart burst with affection. Perfect, he thought. He looks so perfect.

“Armin?” Eren whispered. “What are you—”

“I’m sorry,” Armin breathed. Eren’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, for all of it — for pushing you away, for ending things like an idiot, for being a repressive shit and not realizing that I still have feelings for you sooner — all of it. Because I don’t want this to end. I just want you. Me and you. That’s what I want. And I never want to be apart again.”

“Armin—”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, or to return my feelings in any way. I get it, truly, if you’re mad, because I fucked up. I know I did. But I just had to tell you, before it was too late,” Armin said frantically. “I love you, Eren. And I always will. There’s never gonna be anyone else. Not for me.”

One second, he was panting, wondering if he’d just fucked everything up for a third time, and in the next, Eren was kissing him, grabbing at his face like he couldn’t get enough, and oh, Armin thought he was floating, feeling that familiar, electrical buzz against his lips as he groaned, grasping onto Eren’s T-shirt, terrified that he’d slip away from him at any given moment. Eren whimpered into his mouth, and Armin tasted a twinge of salt trickling down to the side of his mouth. He pulled back slightly, opening his eyes, and saw that Eren was on the verge of full-on sobbing, tears spilling out of his eyes in harsh, rocky waves. 

“Eren?” Armin murmured. “Eren, love, shhh, what—”

“I never stopped,” Eren choked out. Armin could barely breathe. “I never stopped loving you, ‘Min. Not when we broke up the first time. Not for that whole year. Not during the arrangement. And I never will.” 

“Eren,” Armin managed, his own breaths becoming ragged. Eren just kissed him again, and Armin let out a small, wet chuckle, smiling so widely it ruined the fit of their mouths. “Eren.”

“I love you, I love you,” Eren hiccuped, kissing all over his face. “I love you forever.”

“I love you, too,” Armin told him. “And I’ll never stop, either. It’ll just be me and you, yeah?”

“Me and you,” Eren agreed. And then he was pulling Armin into his apartment, rough kisses being pressed to his mouth, his jaw, his neck, everywhere, and Armin had just enough sense to shut the door behind them before he was lost in Eren completely.

What felt like hours later, when they were cuddled up against each other on Eren’s bed, panting and sweaty, Eren buried his face in the crook of Armin’s neck, planting even more kisses along the column of his throat. Despite the aftershocks of pleasure still floating around his body, Armin could feel his breaths start to come in short. Eren then lifted his head, giving Armin one of his lazy, satisfied smiles, and he may as well have started sobbing all over again.

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” Armin grinned, brushing a few strands of hair out of Eren’s face, then cupping his cheeks and kissing the tip of his nose. 

“So,” Eren started, laying his head against Armin’s chest again. “Me and you. We’re really trying again? For real this time?”

“For real this time,” Armin confirmed. He felt Eren’s smile widen against his skin. “I meant what I said. You’re the only one for me, and that’s how it’s going to be for the rest of my life.”

“Sap,” Eren whispered. “You’re it for me, too. Always have been.”

“God, we’re so stupid,” Armin sighed. Eren started giggling, and Armin couldn’t help but laugh, too. “I mean, seriously, what the fuck were we doing? Pretending to date?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t catch on to me sooner,” Eren mused. “Jesus, I was so obvious. And I tried telling you so many times, but it was like every single flirting attempt just went over your head.”

“Sorry,” Armin said sheepishly. “I, er, I kind of got it in my head that all of it was really just for practice.” Eren started laughing again, and he gently hit his back. “Stop.”

“Minnie, why would I be doing all that stuff for practice?”

“I don’t know!” Armin whined. “Like, for future reference, or something. Eren.”

“I can’t,” Eren wheezed. “Oh my God, ‘Min. Future reference?”

“You’re the one who suggested the whole practice thing in the first place!”

“That is true,” he mumbled. “I did end up contributing to that, didn’t I?”

“Mhm. As if the fake dating wasn’t enough already.”

“As if,” Eren snickered. He started tracing little circles into Armin’s skin with his nail. “I guess we'll have to break the news to everyone now, won’t we?”

“Yup,” Armin said. “I mean, er, my sister already kind of knows, but if I didn’t tell her, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Eh. I figured.” Eren lifted his head and kissed the underside of his jaw. “The others are gonna be pissed, though.”

“Ymir definitely will,” Armin mused. “Turns out she didn’t actually win the bet. Connie told me; she said we’d get together before Halloween, and he and Sasha and Hitch said it’d be after new years, so technically, they were the ones that actually won.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on her face,” Eren said gleefully, and Armin snorted. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Well, I’d hope so.”

“Of course,” Eren said softly. “For one, you’re here with me. Two,” he pecked Armin’s neck, “I get to kiss you. And three, Ymir loses her money, and I can finally gloat in her stupid fucking face.”

“I worry for you, sometimes, I hope you know that,” Armin said seriously, and Eren lifted himself up so that they were face-to-face again.

“But you love me,” he grinned. 

Armin exhaled softly and kissed him once more. “That I do.”

Chapter Text

Okay, in hindsight, maybe the last few months should’ve been a grave reminder that not all of Eren’s ideas were exactly good ones. But, of course, here Armin was, pacing around Eren’s living room as if it were his one and only lifeline and questioning whether or not bolting out of there was still a viable option.

“See, if you’re freaking out, then I know it’s bad,” Eren said, wariness overtaking his features. Armin paused his movements for a second. Looked at him. He’d beaten his unruly hair into submission with a brush twenty minutes ago and had let Armin braid it, almost golden in the light hitting him through the window. Even in just a pair of ratty sweatpants and an old sweater, he looked ethereal. Armin wondered how it was possible that such an otherworldly being even belonged in the same room as him.

“And now you’re staring.”

Armin snapped himself out of it, then forced himself to take a deep breath and feel the air re-entering his lungs. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not freaking out. Just, er, trying to write a script in my head, if that makes sense?”

Eren shook his head with a fond smile and patted the empty space beside him on the couch. “That cannot be healthy. Like, at all.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I brought my computer with me,” Armin muttered, Eren’s skin hot to the touch against his forearm as he pulled him down to sit.

It’d been three perfect days since they’d officially gotten back together, and in the midst of all their very much needed time holed up in Eren’s apartment alone, Armin had sort of… forgotten to go home. Obviously, he’d texted his parents that he was probably staying the night at Eren’s the first day, and then one night turned into two after Eren had not so subtly brought up the idea, and two turned into three, which was what brought them to the brightness of today’s morning. And, of course, the doom that awaited them in about a minute and a half.

“‘Min, it’s just Mikasa.”

“Mhm. Just Mikasa and the fact that we’re telling her about us.” Armin rubbed his eyes with his palms, and Eren kissed his cheek. That was still something he wasn’t used to — being able to just kiss and touch each other whenever they pleased without thinking it was for practice. Giddiness suddenly overtook the racking nerves that’d been building up within him, and he had to fight the stupid urge to smile. 

“Think about it like this: imagine her reaction if we told her along with everyone else, compare it to how you think she’s gonna react now, and then decide which one you’d rather prefer.”

“Telling her now,” Armin said immediately. “It’s the least she deserves.”

“See? It’ll be fine.”

“I thought you’d be more freaked out than this, though,” Armin commented. “Like, I’m saying this to you from now, she’s going to be pissed. Especially since we lied. ”

Eren chuckled, and Armin rested his head against the other’s shoulder, shivering when he felt Eren’s lips graze his forehead. “That’s a given, ‘Min. I came to terms with that a long time ago.” 

“So you’re not scared at all?”

“Terrified, actually, but it’ll be fine.”

Knocking came from the door then, and Armin’s entire body tensed. “Er—”

“I’ll get it,” Eren said softly, and Armin kissed him in thanks before he sprinted to the door and hauled it open. Mikasa strided inside a moment later, eyes lighting up as soon as she saw Armin on the couch, and he smiled despite his earlier uneasiness.

“I see you two got your shit together, then,” she said, shooting Eren a grin, and Armin coughed.

“More or less.”

“Thank God.” She plopped down beside Armin, swung her arm over his shoulders, and smacked a kiss to his cheek. “So are you finally going to tell me what actually happened, or?”

“I’d ask you to sit down for this, but you already are, so,” Eren muttered. Mikasa raised a brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

“It’s just — a lot,” Armin said quickly. “Like, a lot.”

“And you have all the rights to be mad, scream, yell, whatever,” Eren added, and Armin nodded.

“What he said.” 

Eren snorted. “You mean—”

“Eren.”

“Sorry, ‘Min. Love you.”

Armin’s face softened a little at that. “I love you, too.”

“Can you please just get to the fucking point without all the unnecessary flirting?” Mikasa asked tiredly. “I swear, it’s always been the same shit with you two since freshman year—”

“We actually didn’t get back together until three days ago,” Armin interrupted. She furrowed her brows. “And when I say that, I mean for the first time in a year.”

“...Explain.”

So, he did, with Eren’s occasional comments and inputs about things that Armin either forgot about or didn’t know about, namely the feelings he’d been secretly harboring for him the entirety of the arrangement. Mikasa’s face stayed neutral the whole time, but the widening of her eyes at certain parts gave away just how utterly dumbfounded she actually was. Armin didn’t know if the lack of response was a good thing, or if he should’ve been preparing a pillow to use as a shield, but his concerns were proven to be extremely valid when — not even three seconds after they’d finished — she grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him so harshly he could quite literally feel his brain sloshing around in his head.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eren yelped, standing up from where he sat on the chair he’d dragged over from the kitchen. “Holy shit—”

“Ow, Mikasa!”

She relented, but still kept her hands in place. Armin thought he was going to throw up any second; he’d forgotten how fucking strong she was without even realizing it. “Sorry — actually, no I’m fucking not. What the fuck?”

“Why the hell did you shake me?”

“Firstly, because you’re an idiot. Second, you were the nearest thing I could grab.”

“I was the only wha—”

“There’s genuinely no way the both of you are serious.” Her eye twitched, and that’s how Armin knew she was trying extremely hard not to strangle either of them. “Who the hell just fake dates for no reason? Seriously? You slept together.”

“That’s what Historia said,” Armin muttered, and the murderous look she gave made him regret saying that immediately. “I mean, er—”

“She knew about this?”

“If it helps, that’s the reason I’m even here in the first place…?”

“And I thank her immensely for that,” Eren said. Mikasa’s gaze cut to him, and he gulped. “Uh, but you deserved to know, too. Yeah.”

Armin nodded profusely. “Which was why we told you before everyone else.”

“Yup.”

“See, I expected this from Eren,” Mikasa started, and he let out an offended gasp. “But you, Armin? Really?”

He held his hands up. “I have no excuses. I was being an idiot.”

“At least you’re fucking aware. Jesus.” She sighed. “I just don’t get why you lied, though. You could’ve let me in on it, or something.” 

“Do you really think you would’ve willingly let us do something like that without trying to intervene?”

She pursed her lips. “Okay, you’re right. But still.”

“The whole point was that we convinced everyone,” Eren said. “To, uh, stop drama from happening. ‘Cause, you know.”

“Mhmmmm. I think that’s just code for ‘I still liked Armin and wanted to be with him again, but I didn’t know how to say it so I just made up a dumbass plan on the spot that almost put all my efforts to waste and blew my cover in the process.’”

Armin blinked. Glanced at Eren, whose cheeks had reddened so much they practically glowed. “Eren?”

“That means I’m right,” Mikasa said smugly. “So fucking dumb.”

“No you’re not,” Eren choked, but the tips of his ears began matching the color of his face, and Armin immediately knew he was lying. “And it was a great plan, actually.”

“Not great, but you still somehow ended up winning in the end, so I guess there’s that.”

Armin felt his own face get warm. “Is that true?”

“Uh.” Eren cleared his throat and looked away. “Maybe?”

Oh. Armin swallowed, the urge to rush over to Eren and kiss him senseless taking over every waking thought in his head, but he somehow managed to restrain himself. Mikasa exhaled sharply.

“Both of you need to see, like, a therapist or something. I’m not joking. There’s no way you’re this oblivious.”

“Who was the one that didn’t notice Sasha liked her until the last day of senior year, again?” Armin asked innocently, and she pinched his earlobe. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

“You do know that’s not even comparable to this, right?”

“Yep. Sorry.”

“Well,” she said after a moment of silence, rubbing her forehead. “I’m just glad you told me now.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m definitely mad, but I’m mostly just happy you idiots figured everything out regardless of your stupidity.” 

“Sorry again,” Eren murmured. “We really did wanna tell you, it’s just — yeah.”

“I… I kind of get it, I think,” she said. “Like, I know your reasons for lying weren’t hostile.” She then gave them both pointed looks. “But I also know you’re never, ever going to do anything of the sort ever again for as long as you live.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Miks,” Armin chuckled. He gave Eren a smile. “I think we’ve got that one covered.”

“If you say so,” she muttered, but Armin caught the hint of a small grin on her face. “And on that note — how are you guys planning on telling the others?”

And that’s when the real scheming began.

See, in spite of the downright stupidity that ensued over the past few months, Armin was usually really good at coming up with plans and sticking to them — especially when it came to their friends. And although this plan in particular wasn’t as complex as ones he’d pulled through in the past, he knew that executing it in the most mundane, excruciatingly simple way possible would be more than enough to reduce everyone’s minds into puddles and create a whole lot of chaos. It might have been a little sadistic, but Armin genuinely couldn’t wait to see all the gobsmacked looks on their faces. He could kind of understand why Eren was so ecstatic to break the news to Ymir, now, who would undoubtedly have the angriest reaction out of all of them.

The first phase was picking the perfect date to carry out said plan. They ultimately decided on the last day of winter break after much deliberation, and concluded that the shock value would be high enough to continue and last throughout the rest of the week. Armin texted the group chat as soon as he could, and within minutes, had successfully gotten all of them to agree to another bonfire held in his parents’ backyard by bribing them with promises of alcohol, candy, and gossip. Honestly, it was too fucking easy.

“You still think this is a good idea?” Eren asked, making the right turn that would take them into Armin’s neighborhood. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited and all, but I’m also genuinely concerned one of them is going to fall into the fire, or something.”

“I love how you, the king of almost falling into bonfires, is talking right now,” Armin grinned. Eren tried to pout, but his lips instead twisted into a smile.

“Okay, it’s not my fault Jean gets all pissy and tries to push me in every time.”

“Love, he gets pissy because you work him up to no end.”

Eren turned away, his loose hair covering his face, but Armin knew he was flustered from the way his fingers slightly tensed against the wheel, how he could see the tiny glimpse of his red ears underneath brown locks. “Still not my fault.”

“Mhmmm.” Armin leaned over and kissed his clothed shoulder. “Whatever you want to believe, Eren.”

The sun was beginning to set by the time everyone else arrived, all of them still extremely confused about what exactly the hell they were supposed to be doing there, but cheers filled the backyard as soon as Armin brought out a bottle of wine from his parents’ alcohol cabinet. The only reason he suggested they drink in the first place was because Erwin and Levi were out, and also because he knew this whole thing would be ten times funnier if they were all at least a little bit tipsy.

“It feels like I’m drinking, like, pure gold right now,” Connie said dreamily, tipping his glass back and forth to watch the wine slosh around inside. “Man, Erwin and Levi are so fancy.”

“They won’t drink alcohol unless it’s fancy, so,” Historia grumbled, taking a sip out of her own glass. “Fucking snobs.”

“May I remind you—” Armin started, but she held her glass right over his head before he could finish, and he lept out of the way just in time to avoid getting drenched in red. “What the hell?”

“Loser.”

“Don’t call my boyfriend a loser,” Eren said, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’ll call him whatever I want, ‘cause he’s my brother, asshole.”

“Fuck you.”

“Kill yourself.”

“Yeah, Eren, kill yourself,” Ymir whooped. Eren flipped both of them off.

Armin glanced at the others. Now that their attention was on him, it was the perfect opportunity to just drop the bomb and be done with it. He quickly grabbed the wine bottle from Sasha, mumbling a few apologies when he almost spilled a little on her shirt, and tapped Eren’s shoulder. He turned his head, and Armin gave the sweetest smile he could muster. “Before I forget,” he said, then leaned in and kissed him. “Happy one week anniversary, babe.”

Eren’s eyes flashed with anticipation, and he grinned, holding out his glass for Armin to fill. “Amen to that.”

The others stared at them for a moment, puzzled, with the exception of Historia and Mikasa, who were both trying not to laugh. 

Then Jean cleared his throat. “Alright, what the fuck?”

“Hm?” Armin said, acting like he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. “Are we not allowed to celebrate small milestones in our relationship, Jean? Seems a bit toxic if you ask me.”

“Yeah, Jean,” Eren tutted. “But am I surprised? Nope.”

Armin shook his head. “I know. Typical Jean.”

“Typical fucking Jean.”

“I’m not even — hello?” Jean said loudly, gesturing to the others, and Marco started chuckling. “Do you guys not see, like, anything wrong here?”

“I don’t get it,” Reiner said. Connie and Sasha nodded in agreement.

“They said it’s their one week anniversary.”

“And?”

“And? They’ve been dating since September.”

Connie scrunched his nose. Counted three fingers on his hand. “Isn’t that three months?”

“Wow, Connie,” Jean said sarcastically. “I never would’ve guessed that in a million years.”

“Fuck you.”

“Both of you are wrong,” Armin interrupted. “We’ve only been dating for a week.”

“Is he delusional?” Jean asked Historia, who just shrugged and grinned. “No, like, genuinely, did Eren’s stupidity finally pass onto him or something?”

Eren clenched his jaw. “My stupidity?”

“Well, yeah, seeing as you’re around him practically 24/7.”

“And I’m around you most of the time, so what does that say about your stupidity?”

“Okay, you know what—”

“Wait a damn minute,” Hitch said abruptly, causing them to stop. Armin tried not to grin, watching the pieces slowly start to fit together in her head. “Wait a damn fucking minute.”

“What, Hitch?” Annie asked. Hitch shushed her by putting a finger to her mouth, and Annie’s eyes merely crinkled in amusement.

“For once in his Goddamn life, Jean has a point. Like, a really good point.”

Jean’s brows pulled together. “Uh, thanks? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“No. Anyways,” she continued. Jean sighed. “Tell me. What happened a week ago?”

“Uh, new years?” Bertholdt supplied.

“Exactly. And what happened on new years?”

“I was a bit too drunk to remember, Hitch.”

“Whatever. Point is, they fought on new years, right? Then just suspiciously made up and acted like nothing happened.”

“But that’s normal for them,” Sasha said. “Just an average fuckin’ Tuesday kinda thing, you know?”

“So why the fuck are they saying one week anniversary? It doesn’t make sense. It should be three months.”

“Why do we even care?” Ymir asked plainly. “We’ve already established that Eren is slowly making Armin dumber. That’s all there is to it.”

Eren opened his mouth, but Jean cut him off with, “Because it’s bugging the shit out of me and I need to know.”

“I’ve got it,” Hitch suddenly screamed, and they all jumped. “Oh my God, I knew it, I knew something was up—”

“Hitch,” Annie said, placing a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder to steady her. “I need you to be coherent, yeah? We can barely understand what you’re saying.”

Hitch flushed. “Sorry. Okay, so — this might sound crazy—”

“Mhm.”

“—But I think they played us.”

There it was. Armin innocently batted his eyelashes. “How so?”

“You were acting weird. Well, weirder,” she said. “I started noticing back in October.”

“October?” Connie gaped. “And you didn’t think to share this information with me? Fake ass—”

“Listen, okay? I was trying to disprove the bet.”

Ymir immediately started cackling. “Yeah, well, sucks for you, ‘cause I fucking won.”

“Nuh uh. Let me finish.”

“You’re still full of shit, but okay.”

“It was Armin, actually, that got me thinking,” she said, and he raised a brow. “Like, he was so rigid all the time, and usually he was a lot more relaxed, you know? But the rigidness was there with Eren. So then I was like, why the hell would he be rigid if they were dating? You get what I’m saying?”

“Huh,” Jean said. “Now that I think about it…”

“See?”

“They’re better than we thought,” Eren fake-whispered to Armin, and he giggled. “Minus the fact that they were fooled for three months straight.”

Ymir’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, fooled for three months?”

“Oh, my dear Ymir,” Eren said sweetly. “You have no idea what’s coming. No idea at all.”

“What the fuck?”

“You lost the bet.” He pretended to gasp and covered his mouth. “Oops.”

“But—” she sputtered. Three identical grins were starting to form on Connie, Sasha, and Hitch’s faces. “You guys got together before halloween. I won.”

“Not quite. See, we weren’t actually dating then.”

“Surprise!” Armin said cheerfully, doing jazz hands. “It was fake. We lied the whole time.”

Complete, utter silence. Then—

“So what you’re saying,” Connie said slowly, “is that you guys got together after new years?”

“Yup.”

“You’re just gonna skip past the ‘we fake dated’ part?” Jean asked. Connie hissed at him, and he nearly stumbled out of his chair. “Holy shit?”

Sasha’s eyes sparkled. “So that means—”

“We won the fucking bet!” Hitch shrieked, springing out of her chair. “We won! We won!”

“Take that, bitch!” Sasha yelled, pointing at a very dumbfounded Ymir. Armin actually felt kind of bad for her; she was in such a state of shock she didn’t even have a witty comeback, and he’d only seen her look like that on two other occasions. “You owe us two hundred fucking bucks!”

“You guys bet two hundred bucks?” Armin yelped. “I thought it was fifty!”

“Nope. Two hundred. Fifty’s child’s play.”

“... That’s child’s play?”

“Yeah, Armin, keep up.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Reiner started. “Slow down. Re-fucking-wind. What?”

Eren pointed to Armin. “We were in a fake relationship from September to new years, Reiner, it’s not that hard to comprehend.”

“I—” his jaw went slack. “Huh?”

“And you agreed to this? You?” Jean gasped, looking at Armin. He gave a sheepish shrug.

“I’ll admit I was a little… misguided.”

“Please don’t tell me you came up with it, Armin. At least let me save some dignity for you.”

“I came up with it,” said Eren proudly. Jean immediately looked relieved.

“Thank God. I was actually getting worried for a second.”

“He still agreed to it, though,” Marco said, a small smirk on his face. “So technically he’s also half of the problem.”

“Thanks, Marco,” Armin said, deadpan. Marco just blew him a kiss.

“Okay, whatever, we get it, they were stupid. What else is fucking new? We have more pressing matters to worry about,” Connie drawled. He held his hand out to Ymir, and she stared at it like she was either going to smack it or vomit all over his palm. “Pay up, Ymir. Pay. Up.”

“Wait!” Sasha shouted. She took out her phone, typed something up, and then the sound of the national anthem started blasting from her speakers. “Okay, now do it.”

“There’s actually—” Historia wheezed. “There’s actually no fucking way you just—”

“The national anthem?” Eren choked. Armin was laughing so hard he couldn’t even form words, and that seemed to be the predicament everyone was in, except for Ymir, whose eyes were still glazed over like she was questioning all her life choices and whether or not she should’ve been jumping off a bridge.

“I love you very much, I hope you know that,” Mikasa told Sasha with a giggle, and her face went so pink she looked like a flamingo. 

“I — uh, I love you too.”

“Pay up, Ymir,” Hitch purred. Ymir gritted her teeth.

“This is the one and only time I’m ever letting you fuckers win a bet, and I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah, just give us the fucking money already.”

“I’ll just venmo it to you.”

“But we need the cash for effect!”

“Well, I didn’t bring my wallet, so.”

They continued squabbling, and Eren nudged Armin’s shoulder with his elbow. “I think it’s safe to say we caused enough chaos, right?”

Armin grinned. Pecked the back of Eren’s hand. “More than enough, to be honest.”

“Mhm,” Eren chuckled. Then he kissed him, and that was more rewarding than any reaction from the others, in Armin’s humble opinion.

𑁤

By March, Armin had made the decision to move back into his and Eren’s apartment.

He’d been spending practically every night there anyways, barely stepping foot into his parents’ house for an entire three months, but it was still a bittersweet affair. He’d miss waking up to his parents on the couch, and getting to drink Levi’s tea whenever he wanted, and the fact that he’d be seeing less of them in general, but it was an eventual step in his and Eren’s relationship that they had to take.

But they were good. He and Eren were doing good. Armin had never been this content in his entire life.

Even the weight of finals in May wasn’t enough to dampen the smooth tranquility surrounding them in thick, rocky waves. Of course, every exam they had to study for hit them both like a freight train, but they managed to get through it together, emerging from their last exams in a pile of tears and limbs crashing together in one of the tightest embraces Armin had ever been in in his life. And that same month, Ymir and Historia finally got engaged, as well, which hadn’t come as a surprise to literally anyone, but Armin still sobbed like a baby the second his sister had shown him the new glistening ring on her finger. The wedding was set to be in August. Life was great.

Except for the fact that it was now August. Which meant it was summer. 

And, contrary to what most would assume, Armin did not, in fact, like summer. Not one single bit.

Summer was hot. So hot, that the freezing air conditioning constantly filtering through his and Eren’s apartment wasn’t enough to blow away the sweat on his skin. So hot, that Armin had to kick off the lovely, soft covers atop his bed, even though he was completely naked. And, if that wasn’t already irritating enough, the sun still managed to filter through their jet black curtains, letting small dots of light pierce his sleep-riddled eyes and halting any other attempt he could’ve made at falling back into slumber. God, he hated it. 

But, as hot as it was, and as much as Armin wanted to snap his fingers and teleport himself into the cold, slow winter, Eren loved summer, and Armin was willing to endure all this agony if it meant seeing his boyfriend as glow-y and pepped up as he’d been over the past two months.

Speaking of Eren, he was currently smushed into Armin’s side, his leg slung over his hip as he let out little puffs of breath against the crook of his neck. Armin had been watching him snooze over the course of the past hour, occasionally running his fingers through his hair and grinning when he heard a small, breathy sound leave Eren’s mouth. At least there was that. 

He almost laughed, thinking of how absurd this would’ve seemed to him a year ago. Not even — If you’d told him eight months prior that he’d be spending every morning like this, having Eren draped across him in a warm, hazy bliss, with no other care in the world other than trying to hear the thumps of his heart in the quiet stillness, he probably would’ve had a heart attack, died, come back to life, and then screamed that you were crazy and needed to go see an exorcist. Ah. The beauty of change. Armin really did love to see it, as much as he wanted to throttle his past self for ever being that fucking stupid. 

“Mhhgg,” Eren suddenly murmured. Armin lightly chuckled and kissed the top of his head. 

“Morning, Eren.”

Eren pinched his shoulder, but not hard enough to hurt. “Wh’the fuck are you doing up? It’s so early.”

Armin glanced at the digital clock sitting on the bedside table. “It’s almost two-thirty, actually.”

“That’s literally early.”

“Early for you, my love,” Armin corrected, his heart bubbling with affection at the sight of Eren’s ears turning bright red. No matter how many times he used that pet name, Eren always got so flustered. “I don’t know if you forgot, but we have to be at the venue by four at least . Historia’s going to kill me if I’m late to the ceremony.”

“Hell,” Eren groaned. “Why’d she choose now of all times to get married, again? I’m too tired for this shit.”

“Eren, we’ve known about this for three months already.”

“Whatever. Maybe she’ll follow in our footsteps and say it’s fake and that it was all just a gag, or something, and then I can finally go back to fucking sleep.”

Armin shook his head with a laugh. Pecked Eren’s forehead. “Don’t even speak that into existence, please.”

“But I’m serious.”

“You’re acting like you didn’t sleep like a baby last night.”

“That’s ‘cause you wore me out,” Eren murmured, and Armin blushed. “‘S not my fault.”

“You started it.”

“And you ended it, so there’s no point in arguing.”

“Is that so?” Armin flipped them over so that he loomed over Eren, and the other boy yelped in surprise. “Your ears are red. That’s how I know you’re lying.”

“Little shit,” Eren rasped. In seconds, Armin was being flipped back over, Eren’s arms and legs caging him against the bed. When he suddenly got the energy to do so, Armin had no idea, but the kisses being prepped to his neck and chest were far more important than dwelling on that.

“Be careful, please,” Armin managed, a little out of breath. “I don’t need anyone to see— ow, Eren!”

“Oops,” was all Eren said, acting like he didn’t just bite Armin’s collarbone. That was a fairly new development — other than the many marks Eren liked to suck onto his skin, particularly his neck, he’d discovered the art of using his teeth a few weeks ago and had since then been attacking Armin with them every chance he got. 

“It’s like I’m dating a wild animal,” Armin muttered, wincing at another bite Eren left on the tender spot between his neck and shoulder. He heard Eren’s low, throaty laugh.

“You’re the one who keeps begging me to do it, so.”

“That’s you and your made-up scenarios.”

“Sure, ‘Min. The looks I see you make say otherwise.”

“Last I checked, that’s not begging.”

“It’s a subcategory of begging, then.”

Armin snorted. “Subcategory?”

“Yup,” Eren said. Then his lips sunk lower, and Armin promptly stopped talking after that.

𑁤

“I really am sorry, babe.”

Armin ignored him from where he sat in the passenger’s seat, forcing his gaze onto the road and trying hard not to think about the fact that he was wearing a scarf on top of his already thick tuxedo in the middle of this mind-numbingly hot summer day. Seriously, he looked so fucking stupid; it was so embarrassing he may as well have died.

“I’m sure Historia’s got some sort of foundation for you to use,” Eren tried again, but Armin could hear the stupid little smirk in his voice without even looking at him. Sorry his fucking ass. He knew Eren wasn’t sorry one single bit.

“I look like I’ve been attacked by a rabid dog.”

“I only bit you, like, two times, max.”

“Really?” Armin took off the scarf and pulled down the collar of his tuxedo as far as it could go, revealing three red patches scattered around the skin there and the remnants of a bite mark in the spot where his neck met his shoulder. Thankfully, most of them were covered, but a few still peaked out over his collar. Hence the scarf. “Just two?”

“That’s one, ‘Min.”

“I’m talking about the other marks, Eren.” Armin rubbed his face with his hands before wrapping the scarf around his neck again. “Oh, I’m fucked, I’m so fucked. Historia’s never gonna let me hear the end of this, my parents are never going to look at me the same ever again—”

“‘Min, let’s be real, they’ve probably seen worse.”

“That doesn’t help!” Armin groaned as he took out his phone. Texting Historia was something he’d been going back and forth about the entire drive to the venue, but Eren (unfortunately) had a point; she had to have something he could use to cover up that matched his shade range. They were twins, after all. 

Armin (just now, 3:55 p.m.)

HISTORIA

TORI

GET HERE RN

Tori AKA the devil herself

OH MY GOD

WHAT WHAT

WTF IS GOING ON

also where the hell are you? it’s almost 4.

Armin

I’M SORRY WE WERE RUNNING LATE

But

Okay 

So

This might seem like a weird question but

Tori AKA the devil herself

mhm

Armin

Do you happen to have any foundation I could use

😁

Tori AKA the devil herself

…

there’s actually no way ur being fr right now

ARMIN.

Armin

TORI PLEASE.

Tori AKA the devil herself

COULD YOY NOT HAVE KEPT IT IN YOUR PANTS FOR ONE FUCKING DAY

MY WEDDING DAY.

REALLY??????

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

Armin

I will literally pay you money

Tori AKA the devil herself

.

how much are we talking

Armin

Fifty bucks along with all your wedding presents

Tori AKA the devil herself

omg FINE

Armin

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Tori AKA the devil herself

i hate u.

“If she doesn’t have any you can just give me one as payback,” said Eren. “An eye for an eye.”

That made Armin snort. “Eye for an eye?”

“Yep. So we can suffer the embarrassment of having a hickey together.”

“How romantic,” Armin smirked. “I’m practically swooning.”

“Okay, but, seriously, does she have any?”

“Yeah. I have to pay her fifty bucks, though.”

“Her and Ymir really are soulmates, huh?” he sighed, and Armin shook his head with a smile. “Jesus. Ymir would probably cry tears of joy or some shit if she found out Historia was trying to bribe you.”

“Those two are really something else.”

At exactly 3:59, Eren parked outside the venue, and Armin didn’t wait a single second in sprinting inside, rushing past multiple caterers, wedding organizers, and a bunch of people holding chairs to get to the small dressing room on the opposite side of the building. He was panting so hard the scarf he was wearing almost slipped off, but he steadied it with one hand and used the other to loudly bang on the door.

“Historia! It’s me!” he shouted, voice hoarse. In moments, the door burst open, revealing Mikasa on the other side; woven around her head was a white flower crown, her makeup was done perfectly on her face, and she was wearing a smooth, simple, off-white dress, courtesy of her bridesmaid status. 

“And the best man finally decides to show up.”

“Got—” he coughed, “caught up. Sorry. Is Historia in?”

“Yeah, she’s in, and she’s pissed,” Mikasa said bluntly. He gulped. “And nervous. But mostly pissed.”

“Good to know,” he said weakly. 

She grabbed his arm and hauled him inside. A messy vanity full of makeup products sat in the corner of the room, and on the other side, there was another door, most probably leading to where Historia was getting fitted for her wedding dress. “Where’s Eren?”

“He went to Ymir, I think. I don’t know. I ran here as fast as I could.”

“That’s, like, a total recipe for disaster.”

“Yeah, well, nothing we can do about it now,” Armin said. Mikasa just shrugged, then pointed to the vanity.

“The foundation’s over there, by the way.” She eyed his scarf, and he flushed. “Historia told me you needed it.”

“Fucking traitor,” he muttered, making his way over and rummaging through the drawers. He finally found it in one of the crevices on the top, and squirted a bit onto the back of his hand to warm it up a little before putting it on his neck. That was a little trick Eren had taught him when he was still stuck in his edgy makeup phase. “Miks, I can see you looking, you know.”

“I’m not,” Mikasa said, but the slight airiness in her voice betrayed her. He shot her a look, and she rolled her eyes. “You’re acting like I wasn’t the one who helped you cover up a million hickeys back in high school. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“You’ve definitely never seen this.”

“Now I’m getting a little concerned.”

Armin tried not to feel embarrassed as he pulled down the scarf and a bit of his collar, watching Mikasa’s eyes go wide. “You see why I was begging her for the foundation, now?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s—” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “What is he, a fucking wild animal, or something?”

“That’s what I said! And I honest to God have no idea why he likes doing it so much.”

She shook her head and laughed, much to Armin’s surprise, then gently cupped the sides of his hand smeared with foundation. “Here, I’ll put it on for you. You won’t be able to get the ones on the back of your neck by yourself.”

“There’re ones on the back of my neck?”

“Yup.” She grabbed one of the makeup brushes from the top vanity drawer and dabbed it against the back of his hand. He felt the ticklish sensation against the column of his throat a second later. “This stuff is really good, so hopefully we won’t need much to cover everything.”

“Thanks, Miks. I owe you one.”

She waved her hand. “Don’t start spewing your nonsense. Just try not to do this on the morning of another wedding, okay?”

“Duly noted,” he grinned.

Mikasa stayed silent for the rest of the process, focusing on her craft, then pulled back after a while with pursed lips. “Check if that’s good.”

Armin looked in the mirror, smiling at the sight of every mark being completely masked, as if they’d never been there in the first place. “Damn, Miks. I forgot how good you were at this stuff.”

“Who do you think taught Eren all his tricks in the first place?” She flicked his shoulder. “Come on. Historia’s probably freaking out even more right now and you’re the only person she wants to see, at the moment.”

“I highly doubt that,” Armin said as they stopped right outside the second door. Mikasa gently turned the knob, and Armin could hear Sasha and his sister’s voices bouncing off the walls even before they stepped inside.

His eyes widened. Sasha’s outfit was nearly identical to Mikasa’s, except her hair was in a singular braid that rested against her shoulder, but Historia. Her golden hair flowed down her back in styled waves, complete with little braids that circled the top of her head; white with little undertones of pink were scattered across the puffy, layered skirt of her dress, accompanied with subtle flower patterns that made it look more like a gown suited for a princess than a bride. But that was exactly what Historia was — a princess, who also happened to be a bride. She furrowed her brows, and he was fighting the urge to start bawling on the spot like an idiot.

“There you are. I was just about to call you and ask what the hell was taking so long.”

“Sorry,” he said, trying his best to keep his composure, but his voice was a little wobbly. Mikasa glanced between them, then tangled her hand with Sasha’s.

“Maybe we should go check if they finished setting up the reception area?” Mikasa asked, and it took Sasha a second to get it, but after looking in Armin’s direction, she nodded. Mikasa shot him one last smile before leading them out and closing the door behind her.

Historia narrowed her eyes. “Why’re you giving me that look?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, you little shit.” She turned to the floor mirror behind her. “Is it bad? I liked it at first, but now I think it’s a little too pink.”

“Tori,” he said softly. “You look beautiful. Really. It suits you so much.”

“You’re not lying for my sake, right? ‘Cause if you are, I’ll kill you.”

“You really think I’d lie to you on your own wedding day?”

“Maybe.” She fiddled with her fingers. “Okay, no. I know you wouldn’t.”

“Mhmmm.” He patted her shoulder, and in the blink of an eye, she was pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He embraced her just as harshly, a few tears breaking through the barrier he’d so desperately been trying to keep up when he felt the slight shake in her frame. “Tori, shhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much,” she rasped. “I mean, it’s Ymir. There’s no one else I’d ever want to do this with.”

“Historia,” he said quietly. She sniffed, and he gently rocked them from side to side. “It’s perfectly normal to be freaking out, okay? I bet you she’s doing the same thing right now with Eren and the others.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But what if I mess up, ‘Min? What if I trip, or something, or I say the wrong fucking vow and fuck up the whole ceremony so bad that she won’t wanna marry me anymore?”

“Tori.” He pulled back slightly to wipe away the droplets of water on her face, careful not to smudge any of her makeup. “I need you to listen to me, okay? That girl loves you so much she’d probably marry you in a dumpster with no complaints whatsoever. Trust me, nothing you do could ever make her not want to carry through with this. You need to take deep breaths.”

She hiccuped. “You really think she’d marry me in a dumpster?”

“I know she would. No question about it.”

That seemed to calm her a bit, at least. “Okay. Okay, this is fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s fine. You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m gonna be fine,” she repeated. Then she laughed. “Jesus, that was embarrassing.”

“Shut up, Historia,” he scolded, pulling her back into a hug, and she laughed again. “Don’t even start.”

“But it’s true. Who the fuck cries like that on their wedding day?”

“Normal people.” He kissed the top of her head. “At least you let it out, though. Imagine you kept all that shit in and started bawling in front of everyone during the reception.”

He felt her shudder. “Yeah, fuck no. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Reputation?”

“Mhm!” she said cheerfully, pulling away and giving him one of her cheeky smiles — that’s how he knew she was back to normal. “You, Pa, Dad, and Ymir are the only people who’ve ever seen me cry, and I plan to keep it that way.”

“You’re sooooo edgy.”

She swatted his arm, and he giggled. “Shut the fuck up, Mr. ‘I had to use half a bottle of foundation because my boyfriend acts like a fucking dog all the Goddamn time—’”

“Who said I needed to use half a bottle!?”

“Me.”

“Moving on,” he coughed, checking his watch. “Shit. The ceremony’s gonna start in half-an-hour.”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” she said, and grabbed her veil from where it hung on the rack in the corner; it was so long, Armin didn’t even know how she managed to hold it. “Do you mind—”

“Here,” he said instantly, taking it from her and gingerly holding the top of it with his fingers, trying his best not to let the weight of it win over his muscles. She turned so that her back faced him, and he slowly put it on her head, stepping out of the way to avoid stepping on the silky white trail that now flowed behind her. “Wow, Tori.”

“You think Ymir’ll like it?” she whispered. “She hasn’t seen the dress yet.”

“I think she genuinely might faint when she sees you.”

“Mission accomplished, then,” she said, shooting him a grin. “I’ll see you outside.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. Gave her one last peck to the forehead. “I love you, Tori. You’re gonna do great.”

“Love you too, ‘Min.” She squeezed his arm one final time, and he was off, gently closing both doors leading to where she was behind him and sprinting to the ceremony room. 

Above him, wisteria flowers dangled from the ceiling, their purple and white colors muted in the low light of the candles placed evenly across the seats facing the altar, as well as the chandeliers surrounding them. Outside, the sun wasn’t yet setting, considering how early it was, but the sky was slowly starting to turn an off-shade of blue that gave the place a nice, warm aura.

He grimaced at the pool of bodies in front of him and started to weave his way through. Lots of people were starting to pile in, some he hadn’t seen in years, and he tried his best to avoid his uncles and aunts and their predictably over-the-top greetings — particularly on Levi’s side of the family — in favor of searching for anyone he knew, preferably Eren or Mikasa. To his relief, he spotted the back of Eren’s head not too far away and immediately made a beeline for him.

“‘Min!” he called, waving him over, and Armin’s face split into a grin at the sight of Carla behind him; her dark hair was in a stylish updo atop her head, and her dress was long, dark purple, and off the shoulders, contrast to the white pearl necklace sitting against her collarbone.

“Hi, Carla,” Armin said, letting her engulf him in a tight hug. One of the many great things about his and Eren’s official reconciliation was that he’d been able to see her again as frequently as he wanted — both of them had practically bawled when they saw each other for the first time in a year back in March, courtesy of her nagging Eren to have him and his family over for his birthday dinner once he’d finally broken the news. 

“Oh, ‘Min, I’ve missed you,” she smiled, drawing back and lightly patting his cheek. “Have you seen your parents anywhere? I was looking to say hi, but, as you can see…” she trailed off, gesturing to everyone around them, and he sighed.

“You know Historia. It’s not a party for her unless there’s at least fifty people involved.”

“Well, I like the way she thinks,” Carla winked, and Eren shook his head.

“Mom, you don’t get it. This place is gonna turn into a complete shi—” he cut himself off, gulping at the glare she gave him. “I mean, uh, crapshow? In a couple hours.”

“Mhmmm.”

“I think Erwin’s over there,” Armin said in an attempt to save Eren from further embarrassment, spotting a head of blond, slicked-back hair in the distance. “Historia and Ymir specifically asked him to officiate the wedding, so I’m guessing he’s getting his speech ready.”

“I’ll just drop by quickly, if that’s the case.” And then she was off.

“What’s up with you?” Armin asked suspiciously, just then noticing the tension in Eren’s shoulders, and the other swallowed. “You’re all stiff.”

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, but Armin immediately noticed the red seeping into the tips of his ears. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, you’re obviously worked up.” 

“I’m not,” Eren muttered, starting to fiddle with the bracelet Armin had gotten him last Christmas. Armin placed a gentle hand on his forearm, and he stilled. The redness had now moved on to his face. “Uh.”

“Remember what we agreed on before?” Armin said, and Eren pursed his lips. “Holding things in if something’s bothering you isn’t healthy.”

Eren looked away. “I know. It’s just dumb.”

“Eren,” Armin sighed. He reached up and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Anything that makes you upset isn’t dumb.”

“But I’m not… upset.” He furrowed his brows. “You know how mom is. It’s just, like, sometimes she says stuff as a joke but this time it was almost too fucking close, and—”

“So she said something you didn’t like?”

Eren’s cheeks were basically glowing. “I didn’t not like it. It was just something stupid. About you.”

Armin raised a brow. “About me?”

“Yeah. Well, not you. Us,” Eren coughed. “It was about me and you.”

“Oh. But it wasn’t bad?”

“No.”

“So…?”

“She just—” Eren let out a frustrated noise and waved his hand. “You know, we’re at a wedding, and she’s been planning ours since we were eight years old and she knows I’d want to—”

Armin blinked. “Our wedding?”

“Yeah. I mean, obviously, our hypothetical one, ‘cause, you know—” he gestured between them, then gulped. “Um, I’m just gonna stop talking.”

“Our wedding,” Armin repeated. Our wedding. Come to think of it, Eren had been saying lots of stuff like that ever since Ymir and Historia’s engagement announcement — hinting at different seasonal themes, scrolling through wedding venues on his phone while they cuddled in bed, even going so far as to take Armin to different jewelry stores and try on their rings. And while Armin knew he wouldn’t actually propose anything until he was sure they were ready — they’d only been back together for eight months, after all — he couldn’t help but entertain the idea. Him and Eren. Married. As long as it happened, he’d be able to die perfectly happy.

“Uh huh,” Eren whistled, avoiding any and all eye contact. “I mean, if you don’t want to—”

“No! No, I do,” Armin said quickly, and Eren looked like he was trying not to heave a breath of relief. “I just, er, I wasn’t expecting you to just say it.”

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Eren said, the words spilling out of him in a rush. “It’s fine. That was stupid of me. Um—”

“Eren,” Armin laughed, and the other boy clamped his mouth shut. “It’s okay. I need you to take a deep breath.”

“Okay,” he squeaked. Armin shook his head with a smile, grabbed Eren’s hand, and pressed a small kiss to his ring finger, relishing at how wide his eyes went.

“I want that. More than anything,” he said quietly. “But after at least a year, yeah?”

“Oh.” Eren looked like he was on the verge of floating out of his own body and into the endless void of space, or something. “Oh. I mean, yeah, sure. Totally. I’d like that. Very much, actually.”

“You okay now?” Armin asked in amusement, and Eren nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Yup. More than okay. Man, I feel drunk.”

“That’s the dopamine hitting,” Armin told him as he led them to a few seats in the front, trying not to squeal or do something equally stupid at the sight of Eren looking so happy from just the mere possibility that they’d have a wedding someday. That he wanted it just as much as he did. God, maybe he was drunk, or something. “Here, just sit for a bit. Tori’s coming out in, like, five minutes, anyways.”

“How was she?” Eren rested his hand on Armin’s thigh, his thumb stroking back and forth, and Armin shuddered. “I thought Ymir was gonna faint from how pale she was.”

“That’s not shocking at all,” Armin murmured. Eren gave a small chuckle. “I mean, Historia was fine for the most part. Just had a minor freakout, but it passed within five minutes.”

“She freaked out for five minutes?”

“Yup. I think that’s a personal record for her.”

“Damn.” 

Erwin suddenly took a stand at the altar, and a hush overtook the room. They both peered behind them, spotting Ymir beginning to make her way down the aisle in her pure-white suit; Jean, Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt followed behind her, their suits a starking black. Violins started playing, and Eren’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. I was supposed to—”

“Go,” Armin whispered, and Eren gave him a quick kiss to the mouth before tumbling out of the row they were sitting in and joining their little line at the back. Jean said something Armin couldn’t hear, and Eren stuck his tongue out at him.

Armin fondly rolled his eyes and followed Eren’s earlier movements, except he opted to exit through the way that led to the side instead of directly on the aisle. He sprinted to the arched doors in the back, and found Mikasa, Sasha, Hitch, Connie, and Marco forming a line in front of them, small bouquets of pale, pink flowers in their hands.

“Where have you been?” Mikasa hissed. “I was looking for you everywhere!”

“I didn’t know we were starting the walk-down right now,” he said frantically. She huffed and stuffed a bouquet identical to hers in his hands. 

“You’re supposed to be in front. You know, being Historia’s best man and all.”

Hitch dragged him in front of her, and he swallowed, feeling everyone’s eyes turn from Ymir and her group to them. Hitch then gave him an encouraging nudge to the calf with her foot, and he slowly started walking. He focused his gaze on Eren instead of the crowd, flushing when the other boy gave him a small nod and smile, and took a deep breath. Each step of his shoes against the carpet rang in his ears, but the feeling of relief that overtook him once he made it to the altar was well worth it. A few long, stretched-out moments passed, and Armin faintly wondered if Historia was even going to appear at all, when the doors flung open.

There she was, frankly looking like a goddess adorned in silk as she stood in the doorway; the shorter half of her veil covered her face, but the unmistaken gleam in her eyes was hard to miss, even from as far away as he was. Levi walked to her side from behind, and she shifted the weight of her enormous bouquet onto one hand, using the other to grip his upper-arm. Armin saw him whisper something, and she gave a small nod in response, which he took as her cue to start moving. As they started making their way down the aisle, Armin took a quick glance at Ymir — he could tell she was giving all her strength not to start crying on the spot. He, too, was rapidly losing control over his own tears, but a comforting touch to the hand from Mikasa was enough to block them. At least for now.

“Wow,” Mikasa whispered. Historia and Levi made it to the steps, Levi going as carefully as possible to ensure her dress or veil didn’t rip. “She looks like a princess.”

“It fits, seeing as she probably was one in her past life,” he murmured back. They stopped in front of Ymir, and Levi gave a kiss to the side of Historia’s head, a small nod to Ymir, then walked back to take his designated seat in the front. Erwin cleared his throat, and the music stopped.

“Welcome, everyone,” he started. He’d automatically activated what Armin liked to call his ‘booming voice.’ “First of all, I’d like to thank you for gathering here today to celebrate the union of my daughter, Historia, and her fiancée, Ymir, whom I have come to think of as a daughter myself.” 

Ymir was definitely going to crack at any second — Historia, too. Armin could see her hand trembling as it reached for Ymir’s and squeezed. 

“Let me start off by saying this: love is eternal. Love, I believe, is the purest form of human emotion. It is the very core of our being. It is extraordinary. And this day, this very second, will be the most extraordinary day of your lives,” he said, facing Historia and Ymir. “But, unfortunately, the rest of life tends to be a bit ordinary in contrast, as much as we like to pretend it isn’t.”

That earned a few chuckles from the crowd, including Historia. “But what I have learned after almost twenty years in my own marriage,” he continued, stealing a glance at Levi, who smiled, “is that living through the ordinary is, oddly enough, the best part. Learn to love the ordinary — learn to love living together, working together, being together — love it to your dying breaths. Burn every minute of it into your memory. Because those little moments, those precious stolen glances, the very mundanity of it, is the most extraordinary thing of all.

“Now,” he said, sounding a little choked up himself, “for your vows.” 

Historia and Ymir faced each other, their hands tangled in-between them. “Historia,” Erwin said. “Repeat after me. I, Historia Smith.”

“I, Historia Smith.”

“Take you, Ymir, to be my wife…”

She repeated every word he said, ending with, “I promise to cherish you, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death.” 

After Ymir finished her vows, Erwin then took the rings from where they sat on a small, velvet pillow, and held it in front of him. Historia took Ymir’s first, then gently slid it onto her ring finger. Ymir did the same a moment later; Armin was sure the giant smile on her face was completely and utterly involuntary.

Erwin nodded and wiped away a stray tear. “You both may now kiss the bride.”

Ymir slowly lifted Historia’s veil and flipped it over her head, revealing her grinning face underneath, and she pulled Ymir down by the collar so quickly Armin barely caught it, but Ymir kissed her just as harshly, an eruption of cheers and whoops coming from every single person in the crowd, including their friends, who were arguably screaming the loudest. Armin started full-on sobbing, just so happy for his sister, and Mikasa was crying, too, the both of them finding each other in a tight embrace that Eren joined in on a moment later. God, it was just perfect.

The reception took off well after, and Armin found himself at one of the tables, a glass of un-sipped wine in his hand as he watched Historia and Ymir have their first proper dance as a married couple. 

“Well, both of them freaked out for nothing,” Eren said, and Armin snorted. “Seriously, that went better than what even I was expecting.”

“Irrational fears are irrational fears, my love,” Armin said, kissing his cheek, and Eren blushed. “I think you and I, of all people, know that feeling.”

“Unfortunately,” he sighed. “The fact that I had to hug Ymir over it kind of goes against the laws of humanity, or whatever, but it’s fine.”

“You what?”

“I hugged her.”

“You’re joking,” Armin wheezed. “You willingly—”

“There were no witnesses. You can’t tell anyone, ‘Min.”

“Not even Historia?”

“Especially not her. Oh my God, I’d be tormented for the rest of my life.”

“But you told me,” Armin grinned. 

Eren pressed their lips together for a brief, sweet moment. “You’re different.”

“How so?”

“‘Cause it’s you,” Eren said, like that was the only explanation.

Armin opened his mouth, but the slow music stopped, and so did Historia and Ymir, shouts and applause echoing through the ballroom as they took a bow. Then the sound of bass-drums started rattling the floor through the speakers, and that’s when he knew it was officially party time. “How drunk do you think they’re going to get?”

“Perpetually wasted,” Eren said.

“Yup.” Armin stood and held his hand out, watching a coy smile start to form on Eren’s face. “May I have this dance?”

Eren took his hand. “You may.”

They giggled as they ran to the dance-floor, hand-in-hand, linked together as if they were the only people existing on the planet. Eren was kissing him before he could even attempt any sort of dancing, cupping his face with one hand and snugly grasping his waist with the other, and Armin lost himself in it immediately, groaning and feeling warmth tingle through his entire body even without a single sip of alcohol.

It was safe to say that night was very well spent.

𑁤

This was it.

January 4th. One year after they’d officially gotten back together, forever this time.

One year. Just the amount of time Armin had promised.

Eren had no idea. Simply no clue, he thought as he glanced at him from the driver’s seat. Eren was going on about something Ymir had done last weekend during one of their weekly fast-food runs, and Armin pretended to listen, as if everything was completely normal. As if a certain, small, black box wasn’t sitting in his pocket, containing the diamond ring he’d bought a mere two weeks ago in preparation.

“And now I’m gonna have to see her fucking face again,” Eren groaned as Armin began parking in his parents’ driveway. Armin snorted and unlocked the car, beckoning Eren to come out the other side. They linked their arms together as they walked up the steps to the door, and he kept going. “How fucking convenient our parents decided to have a joint-dinner today, of all days.”

Convenient, indeed, because it was all just a cover-up for the real plan at hand, but Armin wasn’t about to say that. “Well, it is our five year anniversary, Eren. I’d be surprised if they didn’t do anything.”

“But did they have to bring her?” he grumbled. Armin rang the doorbell. “I swear, watch her start lying about what happened as soon as we get in—”

Levi opened the door a second later. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, Pa,” Armin said, giving a quick kiss to the side of his head in greeting and hauling Eren inside after him. “The roads were a bit icy near our place.”

“Why didn’t you walk?”

“It would’ve taken us twenty extra minutes. Also, the sidewalks weren’t exactly better.”

“Hmmm.”

“Armin!” Historia called from the kitchen doorway, and Armin barely had time to register the rush of brown fur in his direction, but Freya was suddenly clawing at his shoe, meowing excitedly. She’d basically tripled in size since Historia had gotten her more than a year ago, so her claws weren’t exactly as harmless as they’d been when she was a tiny kitten. Armin winced, then leaned down to pick her up, thankfully not having to bear most of her weight as she’d made a habit of just clinging to his shoulder whenever he held her. 

“Hi, love,” he chuckled, using the hand not steadying her bottom to scratch her head. “Nice to see you, too.” 

Levi blinked. “How the hell did you just get her to stop meowing? She was being so loud earlier I thought we were going to have to put a muzzle on her.”

“She likes him best, for some odd reason,” Historia told him, and Armin just grinned in response.

“Just say you’re jealous, Tori, it’s alright.”

“I’ll literally smack you right now.”

“Please don’t,” Levi sighed.

Eren cleared his throat. “Are my parents here yet? My mom said they were on the way when we left.”

Historia nodded and pointed to the sliding door, where Armin could see Carla, Grisha, and Erwin examining something by the pool through the glass. “Erwin’s showing Grisha the plot layouts, or something, I don’t fucking know. Carla went with them because she thought it’d be interesting.”

“And Zeke?”

“In the shed.”

“...In the shed?”

She just shrugged. “He wanted to explore the shed. So he’s in the shed.”

“Which is just fucking great,” Levi muttered, and Armin had to fight a giggle. The reasons for why still eluded him, but Levi had never liked Zeke, and the same applied to the other. Armin didn’t know exactly what had happened between them, seeing as they’d only met for the first time when he was sixteen and had been relatively fine, but all he knew was Levi got sour every time he asked about it, and he figured as long as they kept things civil, them doing something as minor as having dinner together would be okay for the most part.

“He’s still in the shed?” Ymir peeked her head out through the kitchen doorway, and Armin caught the faintest hint of flour on the tip of her nose. “What a creep. No wonder Eren turned out so weird.”

“I didn’t even meet him until I was fifteen. And we’re not even fully related!” Eren gasped. “He’s my half brother. Half bro—”

“You’re still related, idiot.”

“And you still look like you have shit stains on your face, so I dunno why you’re even bothering to talk right now.”

“Are they always this childish?” Levi asked Armin, and he snorted at the way both Eren and Ymir went deep red.

“Pretty much.”

“Uh huh. Well, when you stop your bickering, start helping me and Erwin set up the table,” he said, then went to join the others outside. As soon as he closed the sliding door, Armin and Historia bursted into howling laughter.

“This is all your fucking fault!” Ymir shouted, and Eren looked like he was about to pop a vein in his forehead. “Oh my God, it’s just like last week when your dumbass fucking—”

“Do not. Do not fucking go there! You know damn well—”

“What even happened last week?” Historia snickered, wiping a few tears from her face. “It’s all I’ve been hearing and you still refuse to tell me.”

“Um.”

“Eren climbed a billboard and almost got arrested,” Ymir said, and Armin gasped.

“You what?”

“Ymir!” He hissed. “If that’s how you wanna fucking play—”

Her eyes widened. “Eren.”

“— She broke into some guy's house and stole a fucking hotdog. So.”

“Hah. Nice,” Historia told her, and she blew a kiss.

Armin set Freya down to rub his forehead with both hands, but she still circled his feet. “Okay, but why a hotdog specifically?” 

“‘Cause I was hungry.”

“See? She’s fucking crazy. Who the hell just steals a hotdog from someone instead of just buying one?” Eren said, and Armin shot him a look.

“You’re not off the hook either. Why the hell were you climbing a billboard?”

“Connie dared me to.”

“It was dope,” Ymir added. “He almost fell and broke his leg.”

“Well, as long as you didn’t get hurt or arrested, I don’t care,” Armin sighed. “That’s not even the worst thing either of you two have done.”

“That is true…” Eren started. Armin gave a small laugh and pecked the corner of his mouth.

“C’mon, let’s call the others and set everything up. I know you’re getting hungry.”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“I can hear your stomach growling.”

Eren grinned. “Touché, ‘Min. Touché.”

After they managed to coax Zeke out of the shed and back into the house, Mikasa arrived with many greetings to the parents and kisses to Armin’s cheek, and the fabulous dinner Levi and Erwin had so carefully spent the day preparing was ready to be completely devoured by the lot of them. Various assortments of chicken, salad, rice, and homemade burgers all somehow ended up on Eren’s plate at some point, and Armin watched in amusement as he scarfed down every last bite, despite the many disapproving looks from Carla.

“Eren, you’re acting like you’ve been starved,” she tutted, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth, and he shrugged.

“‘S good.”

“You’re going to choke, sweetheart.”

“This is really good,” Eren told Erwin, though his words were muffled by the amount of food still in his mouth. Erwin shook his head with a smile.

“Well, I’m very flattered that you like my cooking.”

“Carla does have a point, though,” Levi said, and she beamed.

“Loser,” Ymir whispered, and Armin saw Eren kick her under the table. “You little—”

“Does anyone want a refill of water?” Armin asked loudly, because the last thing he wanted was Levi getting irritated, and he assumed that was on the bottom of everyone’s lists at the moment. Zeke raised his hand.

“Me, please.”

“Me, too, if that’s alright,” Grisha added. Armin nodded and started pushing his chair back, before Historia grabbed his arm.

“I’ll come with you.”

She dragged him to the kitchen, and he coughed. “Er, what’s going on?”

“I wanna see,” she said urgently.

“See what?”

“The ring, duh.”

“Shhh,” he hissed, nervously glancing behind him. “Don’t be so loud.”

“I’m not being loud.”

“Okay, then just don’t say that word.”

“Fine. But I still wanna see.”

He hastily took the box out of his pocket and opened it, feeling a little better about the whole thing once he heard Historia’s gasp. “Happy now?”

“Oh my God, ‘Min,” she breathed. “Jesus. It’s beautiful.”

“You think he’ll like it?”

“Uh, duh? The idiot’s probably gonna start bawling as soon as you take it out.” Her finger lightly grazed the small, opal-shaped diamond on the front. “How much—”

“I took a job at the scientific center,” he shrugged. “They qualified it as an internship but I got paid if I helped them with stuff. It took me, like, three months to save up enough, but it was worth it.”

“And he hasn’t asked why you suddenly decided to start working while also doing your fancy science degree?”

“Oh, he did, but I just said it was to get used to the field and stuff. Which was true for the most part.”

“You’re so fucking scheme-y,” she laughed, and he pocketed the box when he was sure she was finished with her little examination. “When do you think you’re gonna do it?”

“When we’re finished eating.” He glanced at the clock. “And hopefully when the sun sets.”

“You’re gonna do it outside?”

“Well, yeah. The snow and stuff makes it a lot more romantic than in here.”

“True.” Laughter came from the dining room, and she grimaced. “They’re gonna wonder why we’re taking so long.”

“Which is why we’re getting the water now,” he told her, grabbing two cups from the cupboard, and she sighed.

Armin’s nerves only grew once the group moved from the table to the living area. Levi had distributed cups of tea for everyone, small sprouts of conversation picking up as they all sat, but everyone except Eren knew what was really going on; Armin could feel their eyes on him, asking a silent question, and it was only twenty minutes of sitting there in pure agony before he cleared his windpipe.

“Eren?” he said quietly. The other boy arched his brow.

“What’s up?”

“Do you want to sit outside? Just me and you? It’s getting a bit hot in here.”

Eren kissed the side of his head with a nod, and Armin swallowed and stood. The others gave him curious looks, and he said, “Eren and I are going to, er, take a breath of fresh air.”

He felt the mood shift from impatient waiting to complete understanding, and Carla smiled. “Take your time. We’ll be here.”

Thank you, he mouthed. Then he took Eren by the hand and led him outside without another glance behind him; looking at their anticipated faces only made his stomach swoop harder.

“I still can’t believe it took this long to snow,” Eren mused, taking a seat next to Armin on the wooden steps. “December last year was practically a blizzard.”

“And thank God that’s not the case now. You remember when we were snowed in for almost three days?”

“Unfortunately. I thought I was genuinely gonna die ‘cause I wasn’t able to see you.”

Armin flushed. “Sap.”

“Like you said, it’s our anniversary, so I have a right to be sappy, don’t I?” he whispered. Armin gave a small smile.

“I suppose.”

Eren reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Leaned in and gave him a quick, gentle peck to his lips. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Is it, now?”

“Mhmmm.”

That’s when Armin closed the distance between them, relishing the soft sound that came from Eren’s throat, and felt Eren’s hand move from his hair to his cheek, cupping it and stroking the skin there. God, he’d never be able to tire of this — Eren’s mouth, the way their faces slotted perfectly together, the sheer bliss and content of it all that stripped him to his most vulnerable state. Which was why he chose that exact moment to hesitantly move one hand into his back pocket.

“Eren,” he murmured. 

“Hm?” Eren pulled back slightly, his eyes drifting to Armin’s hand and widening.

It’s now or never.

“What the—”

“Eren,” Armin said again. He pulled out the box, fully this time, and the other boy’s jaw went slack. 

“You’re kidding me.” Eren’s eyes welled up with tears, and Armin’s heart squeezed. “You’re fucking kidding me, oh my—”

“I love you, Eren. I’ve loved you since the day we met, when you found me crying in the sandbox because some kid took my swing, and offered to be my friend,” Armin whispered, and Eren clamped his mouth shut. “And I knew my fate was sealed, because since then, you’re all I’ve ever known. You’re all I want to know.”

“‘Min,” Eren rasped, droplets of water breaking free and sliding down his face. “You—”

“You’re my favorite person. When I’m with you, I feel whole, like our limbs were meant to be glued together at the seams. When I’m with you, I feel brave.” He set the box down on his lap to grasp Eren’s face with his hands, wiping away some of the salty substance on his cheeks. “And when I’m with you, I know that there’s no one else in the world that could ever possibly make me feel that way. Not even close. And it’s why I want to spend every minute of the rest of my life with you.”

He opened the box then. “Will you—”

Eren was kissing him before he could finish, frantic, gripping tight, like he was trying to mold his fingerprints into the skin of Armin’s upper-back. Armin had to use one hand to steady the box, terrified that the ring would slip out and fall from how harsh Eren’s movements were, but he kissed him back just as, if not more enthusiastically, every single drip of nerves he’d been harboring for God knew how long slowly beginning to seep away with the knowledge that yes, he does, he feels the same—

“Yeah,” Eren choked. “Yes. I will. You didn’t even need to ask.”

“Eren,” Armin chuckled. “Of course I did. How else—”

“But you know, don’t you?” Eren’s lips brushed his cheek, then his forehead. “It’s the only answer I could possibly give you.”

“But I still wanted to,” Armin whispered. “Just to make sure.”

“Idiot,” Eren hiccuped. Armin grinned — he couldn’t help it if he tried — and slid the ring on Eren’s finger, still not really processing the fact that they were getting married. Him and Eren. Getting married. It almost didn’t even feel like he was conscious, like this was all just some hazy dream that he’d wake up from. “Jesus, I should’ve known you were planning something. You were acting so off, I thought you were gonna break up with me again.”

“Eren.” Armin gave him a firm kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I promised, didn’t I? Never again. We’ll never be apart again.”

“I know that,” Eren murmured. He smiled at the ring. “It’s perfect.”

“You really like it?”

“I love it.” He rested their temples together. “And I love you. More than anything else.”

“Me, too.”

Eren wrapped his arms around him, and they embraced like that for a while, just basking in each other’s warmth in the glowing pink of the sunset and the icy, cold snow surrounding their feet. Armin thought he could’ve died happy, right then and there — they were getting married. If he wasn’t so focused on just holding onto Eren, he would’ve probably either been screaming, jumping, or running in circles with his arms flailing in the air. Possibly all three at once.

When they pulled away, smiles overtaking both of their faces, Eren glanced at the sliding door. “Huh. They’re all gone.”

“Maybe they just went to watch a game, or something, I don’t know,” Armin said lightly. Then Eren gasped.

“They knew, didn’t they? They knew the whole time, oh my God—”

Armin kissed his cheek, and that effectively shut him up. “They’ve known for months, actually. Since, like, September.”

“What?”

Then Eren was hauling him up as he laughed, dragging him through the sliding door and tumbling into the TV room in moments. The others weren’t even watching anything, for God’s sake — they were just standing near the curtain-covered window, huddled in a circle, talking in hushed tones. Looking like they were in some sort of blood-thirsty cult. They immediately broke away at the sight of them, though, and all it took was one glance from Historia at Eren’s hand, before all hell broke loose.

“He did it!” she shrieked. “He fucking did it!”

Silence. And then—

“I’m getting married!” Eren whooped, not even fake-mad about the fact that they knew anymore, and they all started screaming so loudly Armin was sure he busted an eardrum. Mikasa tackled both of them in instants, followed by Historia and Ymir, and then Carla was dragging them into the tightest group-hug Armin had ever been a part of in his life, full-on sobs racking through her as soon as they were in her clutches. Then Levi and Erwin were pulling him out and hugging him, too, Erwin pretty much in the same predicament as Carla was, while Levi just smiled and ruffled Armin’s hair with a few pecks to the top of his head. It was so chaotic, Armin didn’t know who ended up embracing who, or whose arms were around him at any point, but they were all crying by the end of it; Eren most of all, who clung to Armin like he was his one and only viable life source. Armin didn’t want him to let go. Wouldn’t ever let him go.

“I love you,” Eren whispered in his ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Armin kissed him, grinning even though the tightness in his face muscles made it hard to do anything but cry. Eren laughed. All was right in the world.

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

They were married on the beach in spring.

It was a small affair. Unlike his sister, Armin wasn’t really one for big parties — and this, to him, was more than just a celebration. It was sacred. Binding. A promise to his lover, to be together forever. One he would keep, even in death and long afterwards.

Armin held his breath, his bare foot grazing the soft, white sand underneath him. The sound of waves crashing in the distance was the only thing he could really focus on; not the hushed whispers of his friends and family in their chairs. Not the vibrations of his heart that coursed through his entire body, sizzling to the very end of his fingertips.

A squeeze to his arm. He glanced beside him; Levi’s voice was almost muffled, but he managed to catch most of it.

Are you ready?

He nodded. Took one step forward. And then another, and another.

His gaze landed on the altar, where Eren was waiting. Pink, orange, and yellow light glowed against the white fabric of his suit that matched Armin’s own; his hair was up, neatly tied into a bun that rested against the back of his head. Armin could see the shine in his eyes, tears threatening to fall at any given moment. He thought they would’ve already — he was barely holding on as it was.

Levi stopped him a moment later, and he looked at the podium Erwin stood at, not even realizing they’d gotten that far. Like Historia, he’d asked Erwin to officiate his wedding, too. Because Eren had wanted it, and because he’d wanted both his parents to see him off somehow. Levi then squeezed his hand. Kissed his cheek. And there they stood, him and Eren, facing each other.

Erwin started his small opening speech — talking about their hardships, how they overcame them, the sweet moments in-between — but Armin could barely hear a word he was saying. Couldn’t if he tried, really, because Eren was just so beautiful. Armin’s eyes drifted down the hard slice of his jaw, his cheekbones, the firmness in his grasp as he reached for both of his hands. His calloused fingers. The soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Even now, Armin had no idea how Eren was able to look at him like that. Him. He, of all people, was somehow the subject of his affections. Armin would never be able to dull that thrill for as long as he lived.

They said their vows. Their promise. To love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives, no matter what. Then Erwin was reaching for their rings, and Armin couldn’t breathe. They’d picked them out not even two days after their engagement announcement three months ago; simple gold that matched Armin’s necklace and Eren’s bracelet, except they’d added their own little secret carvings on the inside. 

E and A.

Armin reached for Eren’s, the one with the A carving, and gently slid it onto his finger. Looked up. Eren was smiling, and oh, how Armin loved that smile. He felt Eren’s touch to his palm, and then the slightly cold feel of the metal against his skin; E. Now they would always have a part of each other, no matter where they went. 

They turned their heads to Erwin, who hadn’t even bothered to mask his own tears; Armin let his own fall right then. “You both may now kiss the groom.”

Eren pulled him in, and Armin surrendered to his touch in seconds. He tried not to ruin the fit of their mouths by smiling, but it was damn near impossible, even more so when they heard the cheers and sobs from their friends behind them, when Armin could hear Erwin’s hiccups and shouts of congratulations. Eren cupped his cheek, pressed closer, making the kiss last way longer than it should’ve, but Armin couldn’t find it in himself to care that everyone was watching, because they were married. He and Eren were married. 

And nothing could even come close to stripping them from that.

𑁤

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much in a day in my entire life, and that’s freaking me the fuck out.”

Armin moved from watching Eren and Carla having their little slow-dance — Armin had just finished both of his with Levi and Erwin — to Historia’s smug grin. “You’re acting like you didn’t look the exact same at your wedding.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” she said, patting his cheek. “On the contrary, I’m glad. Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“Mhm,” he murmured, because she had a point. Who would’ve thought? Certainly not him, and especially not the mess that he’d been almost two years ago, now. Although he didn’t like to think about it most of the time, that whole year when he and Eren were apart, the absolute stupidity they’d executed for all of it still made him laugh. All that, plus the fact that they fake-dated for three months, and here they were, married in spite of everything. It was a wonderful feeling.

The music stopped, and both Armin and Historia gave a cheer, Armin’s smile widening at the little bow Eren and Carla gave everyone. She kissed his cheek, then ushered him back to Armin, which he did willingly. 

“I’ll see you later,” Historia said quietly, and Armin nodded. She left a moment before Eren was back, grabbing Armin’s face and kissing him fiercely, even when Sasha connected her phone to the speakers and started playing such atrocious music Armin thought it was able to level Eren’s playlists.

“Hi,” Eren whispered, and Armin grinned, tucking a loose strand of Eren’s hair behind his ear.

“Hi, love. You okay?”

“More than. Like, I feel like running for a million miles and screaming without stopping,” Eren babbled, his eyes lighting up. “I’m so happy.”