Chapter Text
Armin woke up still feeling very drowsy. His dreams had been a little strange, and as a result, he hadn’t gotten the amount of sleep that he would have liked. Drearily, he got out of bed and made his way to the shower. In his tired, zombie-like state, he failed to notice the neatly-folded note sitting on the dresser by his bed.
He fell into his daily routine, which started with him pulling out his razor, looking at his face, laughing, and putting it away. He only needed to shave about once every two weeks, but he still pulled it out every morning and thought about it. After that, he got undressed and stepped in the shower.
Showers were one of Armin’s favorite parts of the day. Showers were where Armin had all of his deep thoughts. He was an avid poster on Reddit’s “Shower Thoughts” page, and had gotten quite a lot of karma from it.
As the water poured onto his hair, down his face, then onto his body, he remembered the man from the previous day. The strange man with the deep voice, and those piercing eyes that seemed to stare right through him. That conversation had creeped Armin out so much that his dreams had been filled with that voice. It was as though the man had been narrating each sequence, and that had given Armin quite a restless sleep.
How had he known my name? Sure, I gave him ‘Armin’, but there is no doubt in my mind that he used my full name, ‘Armin Arlert’, he thought, and shivered.
He finished up his shower, dried off, threw on his uniform, and set off for work. On his way, he looked over at the area where the swap meat was. It was gone! The entire set of booths had disappeared overnight. Armin began to wonder if he imagined the whole thing. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d mistaken a dream for reality. Something to do with 50 foot titans breaking down walls, but he didn’t want to go into it.
Work wasn’t anything to write home about. It was summer, so no one really wanted hot coffee. A ton of people came in for their smoothies and iced mochas, though. Levi absolutely hated making them. He had a wide range of names for the beverages. “Fucking piece of frozen shits” seemed to be his favorite. Armin didn’t mind in the slightest. Every single one was made with a huge smile and a cheery “Here you go!” To be honest, Armin really liked making them. He was allowed to eat all of the extra smoothie, as long as he didn’t make it on purpose.
Throughout the day, some people came in that Armin recognized, either from high school or college. Thought he always considered it, he didn’t greet them any differently than his other customers. They probably wouldn’t recognize him. He never really talked in class unless he was called on, and his only interaction with other people in his high school days were when he was being bullied.
His shift wasn’t long, and soon Armin found himself back in front of his house. It was about midday, and he wanted nothing more than to take a nap. He made his way upstairs, and not even bothering to keep everything tidy, threw his uniform on his desk. He slumped onto his bed, he was just about to let sleep consume him when he noticed a little piece of paper sitting on the area next to his bed.
Armin’s room was very, very clean. Even now, the only two things that were out of place were his uniform, and this little piece of paper. Armin knew he hadn’t put it there. He assumed it was his grandfather leaving him a note. He wasn’t home, so it made sense. He usually left little notes on the refrigerator, so maybe this was just something important or private that he wanted Armin to see.
He picked the paper up and unfolded it. Alarm shot through him when he realized that it was not, in fact, his grandfather’s handwriting. His was big and messy. The writing on the paper, however, was small, clean, and above all, elegant. It read:
Dearest Mr. Arlert,
I hope you enjoyed your day at work. I understand there were a rather high volume of customers wanting strawberry smoothies today. I may stop by myself sometime and see what all the fuss is about.
I would like you to do a few things for me, in this order:
- Open your closet door.
- Close it.
- Open it again.
- Don’t let it go to your head.
- Have fun, my boy.
Sincerely,
D.A.
By the end of the letter, Armin was curled up on his bed, shaking. Someone had been in his room. Someone had been at his work and had also been watching him all day. How else would they know there had been a lot of strawberry smoothies?
Armin looked over at his phone. Should I call the cops? Tell them someone has been in my home and has been stalking me? It obviously has some sort of connection to the incident yesterday, I’d be a fool if I thought otherwise.
He pondered for a while, toying with the possibility that following the note would get him killed. For all I know, my closet could be, I don’t know, laced with bombs or something. No, that’s stupid. It’s probably just some prank or something. I’m going to have to get clothes eventually, so now’s as good a time as any. With a sigh, got out of bed and walked over to his closet.
The note was scrunched tightly in his hands. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, just incase something either jumped out or sprayed him. Holding his breath, he opened the closet door.
His worries were groundless. Inside were his shirts and jackets. Of course, some might call it a crime how ugly some of his clothing was, but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so Armin walked over to his window. Opening it, he took a good look around. If someone were pulling a prank on me, and there wasn’t actually anything in the closet, odds are they’re recording this just to get my reaction. For all I know, there could be a camera hidden in my room somewhere. That would be pushing it too far, though.
With only one option remaining, Armin shut his window, as well as the blinds, went to his closet door and shut it. Two down.
This time, Armin felt a lot of anticipation in the pit of his stomach. There wasn’t really any reason for it, he just felt if something were going to happen, it would be on the third request from the letter. Finally, he gathered up the courage, and opened the door.
He died. At least, that must have happened because he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t feel. All of the emotion he previously had felt left as well. Nothing remained but shock. Shock so strong it shook him to the bone.