Chapter Text
The sun-soaked days of summer were passing away. It was a quiet death with only a cricket song for a hymn. Armin stood squinting in the sun, wiping the dry creek dust from his hands and leaning in closer to Mikasa. The smooth stones that lined the waterway baked under the afternoon sun and reflected a flood of brilliant light. The creek had run low that year, shallow streams of cool water carving winding divots in the silt. Some speculated that if it had been deeper --if there had been just the smallest merciful cushion to his fall-- he would have made it.
Marco Bott.
That theory didn't convince Armin, but he didn't voice that. Jean stood at the front of the pack of oddly silent teenagers. His fists were clenched at his sides, a protest against this unassuming summer day. His car had veered off the road, probably landed about where they were standing. Angry black silhouettes rose up the surface of the monumental boulder before him, right where the flames had been. The engine had split open like a pomegranate, the aluminum car body folding in on itself in the onslaught of such a sudden stop. A pretty white cross was erected at the peak of the stone, high out of the water's reach. The wreath of flowers that crowned the display would wither away soon. It was already drooping under the late August sun. Jean wiped at his brow, wishing he didn't have to stand there in the dirt in his best slacks and button up shirt. Wishing he hadn't let his best friend drive home alone in that storm. Wishing he'd made him spend the night. Wishing they'd just made popcorn and watched bad television to the sound of the rain against the roof. Wishing he'd--
"Hey, Jean,"
Armin had moved forward and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. It was funny how he hadn't realized he was crying. He nodded shortly and wiped the evidence away. Armin rubbed his shoulder and let him pretend.
The unofficial memorial service had drawn quite a crowd. After all, Marco had been well-known in their community. He was the star of the track team, favorite pick for homecoming king, and resident sweetheart. The town was small, clinging to the nape of the mountain, and his name often speckled the local paper for various acts of generosity and athletic feats. His parents cut those features out and saved them in a scrapbook, though Marco himself didn't much care for the acclaim. He never was one to snatch the glory for himself. Jean shook his head slowly, listening to those behind him murmur about what a loss this was for the community.
No one mentioned what a loss this was for Marco himself. Eighteen and radiant. Ready to see the world. No one mentioned what a loss this was for his home; about how quiet and empty things would be without him. They wanted to redistribute grief that wasn't theirs. It was selfish, but Jean wanted them gone. He wanted everyone who didn't truly know Marco to vanish right then. He wanted the people who knew the way his dimples came out of hiding when he laughed too hard. He wanted those who knew him while he was still in his chubby stage and collecting Pokemon cards. He wanted those who knew Marco Bodt the Person, not Marco Bodt the Local Legend. Yes, that was selfish. He was selfish. This grief was selfish.
Armin and Mikasa stayed the longest by his side, Eren hovering silently further back. They excused themselves quietly after some time, knowing he needed time to himself. He sat alone by the side of the creek, digging the shiny toes of his dress shoes into the muck until you could've never guessed he'd worn them to prom last year. It was like he could still hear his voice. The voice of the best friend he'd ever had. He was only just beginning to understand the depth of their relationship.
That was irrelevant now.
He sat there until the darkness encroached and that dwindling cricket song called him home.
"Of Mice and Men...? That's the one with the guy who gets the surgery that makes him smarter, right?" Eren spoke around the bagel that he had unceremoniously shoved into his mouth. Mikasa ignored the crumbs that he got everywhere, staring straight ahead as she drove.
"You're thinking of Flowers for Algernon," Armin corrected, "Of Mice and Men is a Steinbeck novel. Did--did you even read it?"
Eren's lack of a reply was enough of an answer for him.
"You had all summer to read it! It's not even that long..." He sighed, melted into submission by Eren's sheepish grin. "Quick breakdown: George and Lenny are friends. Lenny has an intellectual disability and George often looks out for him. You know, I actually believe that--"
"You said quick breakdown," Eren commented, tearing the bagel to pieces over his lap. They were pulling into the school's wide-mouthed parking lot and though he usually allowed --and even enjoyed-- Armin's elaborations, they had less than ten minutes before they were expected to be in first period.
He seemed to understand, "Lenny accidentally kills a woman because he doesn't know his own strength. He's very misunderstood. George saves him from a manhunt and talks to him about rabbits before shooting him."
"Wait-- he dies?" His fingers froze with the bagel part-way to his lips, "Spoiler alert, Armin!"
"You weren't actually going to read it."
"...no,"
The air was already warming as the sun rose in the sky, their shadows blooming across the cracked pavement as they walked to the school structure. It was a bit of a hike and they were joined by many. Connie and Sasha were already making a ruckus about ten yards ahead of them. The only class Armin had ever had with them was first year gym, though despite that they frequently sat at the same table at lunch. He watched her caramel colored ponytail swish erratically as she leapt onto Connie's back, simultaneously hitching a piggyback and giving a solid noogie to his cleanly shaven head. His cry of indignation was drowned out by the school bell. It was old, still using a physical bell instead of a beep over the loudspeaker. Lots of things about the place were oddly outdated. Armin found that it was a reflection of the town itself.
"Shit, I have five minutes to haul ass across campus! You know how Mr. Shadis is about attendance." Eren knocked into Armin's shoulder playfully before running ahead. He waved back to them without turning around. Armin heard Mikasa hum, low, a reaction to her lack of personal farewell. It wasn't beyond Armin that Eren sometimes slighted her without being aware of it. It also wasn't beyond him that she was such a devoted friend that she would return to him time and time again.
Tenderly, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and laughed, hoping it didn't sound forced. "First period AP Government for the both of us, huh? Looks like neither of us actually want to survive senior year."
The joke was lame, but it shook that look from her eyes.
Jean was late to first period English. Very late. Eren watched from the seat he'd claimed in the back as Mr. Shadis made a public spectacle of him in front of the entire class. His hair was a bit disheveled and his letterman's jacket made his backpack hang from his shoulder at a weird angle. Mr. Shadis' words seemed to pass right through him as he suffered the further indignity of having to sit in the last unoccupied seat --front and center before the instructor who was already spitting acid. Somehow Eren drew less entertainment from this as usual. He felt something akin to ice water pool in his gut when he got a good view of Jean's jacket. It wasn't his, it was...Marco's.
His grip tightened on his pen, fingers ceasing their doodling in the margins of his notebook. He pictured it all too clearly: Jean waking up in the morning, knowing he'd have to drive down the highway past That Spot. Knowing that he'd have to drive past it virtually every day. Eating breakfast slowly to avoid it. Breathing deeply in the garage and again inside the car. Preparing.
Coming to class late.
Jean Kirstein was an asshole. But Eren would be an even bigger one if he couldn't sympathize.
AP Government was fairly empty. There couldn't have been more than ten students in the room. Before the end of summer, they had expected eleven. Even so, some students fought for seats anyway. This was Mr. Smith's class and Mr. Smith was known by some pretty interesting monikers, the least crude being Mr. Handsome. Armin had had him for AP Psychology the previous year, and he was in charge of the school's debate team. Though he was no longer entirely dazzled by him, Armin did still get that nervous thump in his chest when he met his instructor's eyes. The only one who didn't seem to care at all was Annie Leonhart. She had been in AP Psych as well, so she had the same head start as him. But this was different; a well-groomed air of indifference. They'd actually had some good conversations the previous year. Neither Mikasa nor Eren had been in the class with him, and friendly conversation was nice. But every time he thought he was getting to really know her, something happened to shut him out.
Now he watched as she sat, slender fingers sticking out of the too-long sleeves of her white hoodie just enough to reveal that she was writing something-- no, drawing. He watched the circular pattern of her pencil from afar, thinking about their almost-friendship. Thinking about the fact that there should have been one less empty chair in the classroom. Thinking about--
"Okay, class. I hope you've come prepared because we're going to hit the ground running." Mr. Smith instructed, impervious to his students' dazzled stares. In large letters across the top of the board he wrote out: CHAPTER ONE QUIZ. "I expect you've all done the assigned reading."
Armin should have been thinking about that. His heart seized in his chest. The day he'd set aside for the class reading had been the day of Marco's memorial. He cursed silently, feeling dread pull at his ankles, his stomach, his heart. Annie's quiet drawing remained unchanged, and he anchored himself to that repetitive motion as the quizzes were passed down his row. It was only the first chapter. It was basic information that he probably had already known for years. No need to panic. Mikasa passed him the quiz, pausing to give him a look of concern before gently squeezing his shoulder with a nod.
No need to panic.
"I'll trade my chocolate milk for string cheese and the gummy fruit snacks."
"Ugh Armin..." Sasha groaned, still eyeing his drink. Reluctantly, she gave in. "Deal,"
"You drive a hard bargain, Armin." Jean commented, watching him snatch up his winnings. "Do you guys do this every day?"
"Thereabouts," Sasha answered for him, prying open the milk. The lunch she had packed seemed to cover every base imaginable from crackers and hummus to a full-sized dill pickle. Even after the trade, she was not in want. Gleefully, she fished a PB&J from a plastic bag.
This was the first time Jean had joined them at their table, but he seemed to be adapting well enough. Armin had taken the liberty of inviting him. It had been like watching a deer in the headlights. Jean skirted along the edge of the lunchroom with his tray in hand and a flat trace of desperation in his eyes. He had only ever sat with Marco and the track team, but the track team appeared to have a different lunch period this year and Marco...
Despite Jean's best efforts, Armin ended up between him and Mikasa.
"Hey, so I--" Eren froze in place, fist wrapped tightly around a paper bag lunch. Jean was in Eren's spot. There he was, sitting right next to Eren's best friend as if he belonged there. Armin watched tensely as a variety of emotions flickered through his friend's eyes. He watched his fist tighten, the bag crinkling frantically. His nose crinkled somewhere between disgust and irritation. "What're you--" Armin locked eyes with him at the last moment, thick brows furrowed and hard gaze sending a very clear message. His mouth clamped shut and he stiffly took a seat across from them.
"What're we doing?" Armin finished the question for him, a smooth lie. "I just got myself some string cheese."
"That sounds like excellent news, Armin. It's really good to hear." The husky voice boomed across the table and all eyes snapped to attention.
"Yo! Reiner!" Connie shouted, throwing up his hand in a loose greeting. Reiner nodded, grinning from where he came to stand at the foot of their table. He towered over them under normal circumstances, but now especially since he was the only one standing. Perhaps this was why he leaned on the table a bit.
Armin's gaze traced back to where he had come from. He sat at a table with another classmate, Bertolt. Today they sat alone, though sometimes they joined Armin's group. Bertolt sat with his back to them and Armin saw immediately what he was looking at. Annie sat at a table of her very own, right by the window. She ate quietly, a book open next to her though she wasn't paying it much mind. He'd never had the same lunch period as her before and he wondered if this isolation was customary.
"Hey, just a quick reminder!" Reiner's voice drew him back, "This school year's first annual Business Trip Bash is this Friday." His smile contained an unexpected kindness, "Be there or be square." He was probably the only person left alive who could make that phrase tolerable. Business Trip Bashes were just parties he had when his father was away --which was often. In this neck of the woods, they were about all there was to do.
Armin felt Jean stiffen at his side. He glanced over at him where he sat picking at his cafeteria-issued mashed potatoes. There was no way he couldn't hear the conversation that was going on, so...he must have been pretending it wasn't happening. He used to be the life of Reiner's parties, but here he was stirring his instant potatoes with a brittle plastic spork and refusing to look up.
Once again, Armin let him pretend.