Chapter Text
With shaky hands, you typed the message and immediately threw your phone back into your bag;
Hey, I’m so sorry but I actually can’t make it tonight!! Something came up. So sorry for the last minute notice! Really sorry to do this last minute
The guilt settled in almost immediately, heavy and unwelcome. You were not the type of person to cancel plans last minute, especially not like this. You imagined him already seated at the table with his phone face-up beside his plate. The image made your chest tighten, but not enough to make you turn back. Instead, you took a long walk through your neighbourhood. You let your feet decide where to go while your thoughts drifted backward, pulled by something insistent.
There was something in the air, and Historia’s voice replayed in your mind, careful and kind, the way she paused before saying his name.Past relationships surfaced. Not the good parts, those fade easily, but the arguments. The same ones, dressed in different voices.
‘You’re never really here.’
‘I don’t feel like your priority.’
‘It’s like I’m competing with someone I can’t see.’
At the time, you had defended yourself. Said you were trying, that you cared, that it wasn’t fair. Now, walking beneath trees you’ve known for years, the memories settled differently. You thought, distantly, of how often you checked your phone on dates, how relief came when plans ended early, and how no one ever quite measured up though you couldn’t explain what they were missing.
And then, almost reluctantly, you thought of Armin.
A reassuring constant you never questioned, yet also never examined too closely. How little he dated. How nothing ever seemed to stick. How he’d shrug when asked, offer soft, unsatisfying answers that went nowhere.
‘I just didn’t feel right.’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think my heart was ever in it.’
You accepted those explanations then, filed them away as coincidence. But now they echoed, brushing against your own memories in uncomfortable ways. You thought of how he never lingered on stories about those girls. How he always seemed to be home when you needed him. You thought of the way he looked at you sometimes—a heavy, lingering sort of stillness that you had always mistaken for simple comfort. It was the look of someone who had learned to be content with just the view, anchored by a quiet gravity you were only now beginning to name. The thought didn't scare you at first. It settled slowly like dusk, unnoticed until suddenly everything looked different. By the time you stopped at the local store to grab a few beers, your hands were shaking just a little. You told yourself you were just tired or emotional. You hoped that tonight with Armin and Eren being loud and ridiculous would help laughter smooth everything over like it always does.
***
“Where’s y/n again?” Eren asked, reclining into the deck chair.
“She’s gone out on a date. Some Italian place, Belluno-someting, I think,” Armin replied as though he did not know exactly where you were. Trattoria Belluno. His mind wouldn’t let him forget.
"She's out on a date?" Eren’s tone was incredulous. "And you're fine with that?"
Armin took a sharp inhale before answering simply.
"Yeah."
"Is that why you're chugging straight vodka?" He pointed to the half-full glass in Armin's hand just as the blonde raised it to his lips. Armin took a long swig, grimacing from the bitterness of the alcohol.
"Maybe I just want to get drunk with a friend," Armin countered, already pouring himself another drink.
"And if I get drunk with you, will you be honest with me?"
"Only one way to find out!" Armin said, handing him a glass.
The sun was tethering on the horizon's edge, tinting the scenery in pinks and orange as evening slowly gave way to night.
"This feels wrong, man," Eren said, the alcohol slurring the edges of his words.
"I told you not to mix so much," Armin laughed, sounding quite tipsy himself.
"No, not that. I mean y/n," Eren leaned back in the deck chair, letting his head fall back. "This date."
“You still wanna talk about that?” Armin asked, his voice just above a whisper.
“I know we’re both thinking the same thing.” Eren insisted, watching as Armin poured himself yet another drink.
“Mmmmmhmm…” He had lost count of how many he’d had, but the bottle was almost empty.
“You’re gonna play house for two years and not say anything?” Eren had sat up again, to look directly at the blonde. “C’mon, man.”
Armin opened his mouth to speak, but just then, the front door clicked open. Your cheerful voice echoed through the ground floor and into the backyard.
"Hey guys, how's the evening? I got us some beers!"
Both men stood up at the same time, as though jolted by an electric current. Eren made an exaggerated gesture toward you, then at Armin, before smacking his open palms together. Armin raised his brows and waged his middle finger at his friend in mock annoyance. The brunette didn't even notice. He was already at the sliding glass doors, his voice booming.
"What time do you call this, young lady?"
“Somebody’s drunk.” Your light laughter filtered through to where Armin stood outside, and he couldn’t help but smile.
"You should see the other guy," Eren replied as you entered.
"Y/n, back so soon? How did the date go?" Armin asked, his casual indifference rehearsed to near perfection.
"Ah..." you sighed. "The vibes were off, y’know?" That was not technically a lie, and you didn't want to explain that you had bailed on the date entirely.
"It didn't feel right?" Armin asked, and he could hear his heart pumping in his ears.
"No, I guess not," you smiled at him. You wondered if he was blushing or if it was just the alcohol.
Later that evening, after Armin had gotten Eren into a cab, you sat curled up on the sofa with a soft buzz in your brain. It had been a lovely evening spent laughing with the two men, and the precariousness of the day felt all but forgotten.
"You didn't go on that date," Armin said, sitting in the adjacent armchair to face you. “Did you? Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I'm assuming anything" He added quickly, without meeting your eyes.
You sighed. "No, I didn't. I'm the worst, aren't I?"
"What?" His eyes shot up to meet yours. "No. Why?"
"Min, I stood him up. I mean, I texted him that I wouldn't make it, but he must have basically already been at the restaurant, and then I just unmatched him," you buried your head into your hands.
"So you didn't even stand him up."
"Technically, but I don't feel like I should be let off on a technicality," you responded, looking up at him.
"Why not? I wish you'd let yourself off the hook," Armin said with a gentle sigh. "You never do. As far as he's concerned, an emergency came up and then you changed your mind. It is okay to change your mind"
When you looked uncertain, he repeated firmly, "It is. Do you want some tea?"
"Earl Grey, please!" you called after him as he walked toward the kitchen.
"I know you know this already, but please don't rush yourself," he said with his back to you as he filled the kettle. "If you feel you need more time to settle or whatnot, you don't have to move on if you don't want to.”
You looked towards where he stood, his back still to you as he poured water into two oversized mugs. The familiar threat of tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t cry. Of course he thought this was about your dad. Sweet, kind, compassionate Armin.
"It's okay," you said softly. "I’ll always miss dad, but it's not that, really"
You watched him carry the mugs back to the couch with care so as not to spill them. You had a sudden urge to go to him, but you stopped yourself.
"Well," he exhaled, trying to keep his voice neutral. "I'm glad to hear that at least,” he sat down right next to you on the sofa, and without thinking, you rested your head on his shoulder. This was nothing new for the two of you, so why was his heart beating so fast? He wrapped one arm around you, pulling you closer, and his heartbeat quickened even more.
"Y/n?" he asked after a deep breath.
You replied with a quiet "Yeah?"
Another breath, deeper but shakier.
“Why didn’t you go?”
You closed your eyes, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You could lie, you could play the whole thing off as a joke. But something in the way he asked - his shaking breath and racing heart - it demanded honesty.
“Because,” you began, turning to face him. Your gaze settled on this collarbone, unable to meet his bright blue eyes. “Because he wasn’t you.”
Armin didn't move or breathe. The arm around your shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly, as though his body reacted before his mind could catch up. He could feel his heartbeat, loud and unsteady beneath his shirt, betraying him entirely.
“Oh,” he breathed. It was barely a sound at all.
You cursed yourself instantly, the words feeling too heavy now that they’re no longer theoretical. Your eyes snapped shut, as if you might be able to undo it by sheer force of will.
“I’m sorry,” you rushed out, your previous statement feeling too heavy in the real world. “I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have said it like that, I just—”
“Y/n.” He turned so that you were forced to lift your head. You still couldn't meet his eyes, but you felt them on you, searching and careful. "Please don't apologize," he said. "Not for that"
Silence settled between you again, thicker this time, weighted with all the years you never named what this was. Your gaze drifted to his hands and you watched him trace absentminded circles on your sleeve. "I didn't go because he wasn’t you. I think I look for you in every room I’ve ever walked into," you swallowed, the words finally finding their way out.
“I always wondered,” he said, a faint, almost self-conscious smile tugging at his mouth. “Why it never worked out. For either of us.I thought it was just bad timing or that maybe I was emotionally unavailable.”
When you finally looked at him, you found his gaze already anchored to yours.His blue eyes were clouded with a decade of unspoken things, dark with a quiet, desperate sort of hope, and he found he could no longer hold back .
"I was so scared of ruining what we had," he confessed, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a reverence that made your breath hitch. "But loving you quietly didn't make it hurt any less"
"I think,” you breathed, heart hammering against your ribs. “I think I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that for a long time. Because I love you, Armin. I’ve loved you through all of it."
"I love you too. God, so much." A broken, relieved sort of laugh escaped him, and he closed his eyes as if finally finding rest. "I've loved you since that first day on the driveway," he whispered. "I don't think I ever knew how to stop."
He leaned in then, closing the small distance between you with a tentative slowness, as if he were still giving you a chance to turn back. When his lips finally met yours, the world seemed to grow quiet. It wasn't the frantic or uncertain kiss of a stranger; it was steady and deep, carrying the weight of a decade of friendship. You melted into him, your hands moving to the back of his neck, finding the soft hair at the nape as the kiss deepened, warm and certain.
When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads remained rested together. You were both slightly breathless, the air between you charged with a new, shared secret.
"We're so late," you laughed softly. "I think we've been late for years."
"It doesn't matter," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "The time doesn't matter. Not as long as it's you."
There is no right time for these things, yet this felt perfect.