Work Text:
Fear.
It ran thick through his veins, heart flopping around in his chest like a fish out of water. He grit his teeth, and wrapped a shaky finger around the trigger of the cold, metal object in his hands. It felt heavier than it really was.
There was a rustling in the bushes around him, every little brush of the leaves sending his heart rate spiking even higher. Every twig snapping, every phantom footstep could be...
Eren shook his head. No, don't think about it, if he thought about it, he'd only psyche himself out and that made him an easier target.
He was one of the last two to stand against them. He gripped the gun in his hand, palm slick and sliding with sweat. He tried not to think about the stray splatters covering his clothes, the memories of his fallen comrades.
Their screams, their cries...
God, he hoped that Zeke was alright.
But he couldn't let himself get distracted. They were strong and fast and smart, and he was isolated and thus outnumbered. If he wanted to get out of this standing, he'd have to think twelve steps ahead. That wasn't his strong suit.
He wondered, did they predict him heading into the shrubbery? If he thought twelve steps ahead, it felt like they would always think fourteen.
He wondered if he should stay within the towering plant life, or move out into the open. True, he'd be more exposed, but it was so much easier for them to move unnoticed through the bushes than it was for him.
He wasn't the stealthiest of the lot, either.
A flash of gold caught his eye, and his thudding heart screeched to a halt as a small figure emerged from the shadows in front of him.
“Armin,” he rasped, aiming his gun.
His best friend's expression didn't change, but he did raise his gun a little higher. “Eren,” he replied, tone clipped and emotionless.
Eren could feel strands of dark hair escaping from his bun and sticking to his sweaty forehead. “Where is she?” he hissed. “I'm not stupid, I know this is one of your tricks.”
Something that he had learned very recently was that Armin was a master at mind games. Especially when he had Mikasa to back him up.
Armin gestured to an old log lying next to both of them. “Please, sit,” he said, not lowering his gun.
Eren trembled as he adjusted his grip on his own weapon. “I'm not taking orders from you,” he spat. “The choice was made, remember?”
“I think you'll find,” Armin's voice was irritatingly calm, “That you hold none of the cards in this situation.” He pointed upwards.
There, perched in one of the top branches of the tree above Eren, was Mikasa. Her gun was trained directly at Eren's head, and he knew that there was no chance of her missing a single shot. Eren swallowed tightly, and sat down at the edge of the log.
Armin positioned himself in front of Eren, and, within seconds, he heard a soft thump on the carpet of fallen pine needles behind him. He didn't look back, but he knew that Mikasa was still aiming for the back of his head.
“I believe it's true,” Armin sounded even colder. “That you are the one who took out Sasha and Gabi?”
Eren swallowed again. “I—”
“Remember that we know when you're lying,” Armin's finger tightened around the trigger. “We always do.”
Eren's palms were practically dripping perspiration. “Yes,” he said tightly, stomach coiling like a spring. “Yes, I pulled the trigger.”
“They had dreams, Eren!” Armin gestured angrily, losing composure for just a second. "They were so excited, and you crushed them.”
Eren opened his mouth, wanting to dispute this, wanting to plead his innocence for a shred of mercy, but what came out was, “Zeke assisted.”
Mikasa huffed, and Armin quirked a single eyebrow. “Zeke is no longer in the picture,” he said, icy.
Eren tried to gasp, but he choked on it halfway through, doubling over from his seat on the log. “No,” he tried, struggling to suck in air. “No.”
If Zeke was gone, that made him the last one standing. And if he was the last one...
It's over.
“Why?” was all he could ask, staring imploringly into Armin's eyes. Eyes he used to look into as a child, eyes he used to take comfort in. “Why are you doing this... this sick game of cat and mouse?”
He was praying for some sort of miraculous escape. An action movie-style twist where a hand reappeared at the edge of the cliff, it was revealed that one of his teammates wasn't actually... gone, and they'd come charging in and save him.
Or he'd suddenly spot a gap in the enemies' plan, and he'd say something witty and cutting before kicking their asses and winning.
This was no action movie.
“Because,” Mikasa's voice came from behind him. And Eren wondered if he was hallucinating in pure terror, because he could have sworn that he saw Armin's eyes soften just a millimeter, a hint of a shadow of childhood friendship. “We wanted to show you that you made the wrong choice.”
He heard Mikasa shifting behind him, and twisted around, wanting to catch a glimpse of that same softness in her eyes, before it was over. One last memory of what used to be.
Just for a second, she looked at him, lips twitching upwards. “Do you regret it, Eren?”
Bang.
The shot was never as loud as you'd expect it to be, but in the moment, it was deafening. Eren choked in slow motion as he toppled off the log. He couldn't feel it, not exactly, but he knew that there was liquid trickling down his side.
He touched his fingers to it. They came away wet.
Eren stared at the paint on his hand, wanting to cry, while Armin hollered in the background.
“We won! We won!”
Armin lowered his recently-fired gun and leaped clean over the log (and Eren), and over to Mikasa, still whooping, while she smiled triumphantly.
Armin was only silenced by Mikasa grabbing him by the collar and kissing him too intensely for a battlefield.
“You guys are such sore winners,” Eren groaned from his place on the ground.
Mikasa flipped him the bird while Armin wrapped his arms around her neck.
Eren covered his face with his hands, and wondered if they were ever going to let him live this down.
They were all gathered in some dingy bar in a side-street, hands wrapped around their drinks while half of them tried not to sulk.
Gabi, Sasha, Mikasa and Armin all wore matching smug expressions. Especially the latter duo.
“So,” Sasha said, setting down her beer. “I know that we've already made fun of you enough, and you're paying for our drinks, but…” she tapped a finger to her lip. “Is there something missing?”
Jean and Connie exchanged horrified looks, while Zeke buried his face in his hands. Eren already looked like he had died inside a long time ago.
“Please don't make us say it,” Connie squeaked.
Mikasa just leveled him with a stare. He looked ready to weep.
Jean and Zeke lowered their heads, and, in unison, all four of them said, “Our dicks are even smaller than our brains,”
“And?” Armin prompted, enjoying this more than he had anticipated.
“And your meat is huge,” they mumbled.
Gabi high-fived Sasha, sipping her juice, Mikasa sat back, eyes glinting, and Armin rested his chin in his hand, just looking at Eren.
“I get it!” Eren threw up his hands. “Yes! I should have recruited you two for my team! It was a best-friend betrayal of the highest order! If you ask me if I regret my choice one more time, I'm gonna lose it.”
“Actually, I like it better this way,” Armin said, taking a drink from his Coke. “We're never gonna let you forget this.”
Eren dropped his head into his folded arms, while Sasha and Gabi cheered about Mikasa and Armin, power couple extraordinaire.
God help him when they texted the group chat, and let everyone know that Eren's team didn't just lose spectacularly at paintball, he also got shot by his two best friends with absolutely zero remorse on their part.
And then they made out right in front of him while he was fake-bleeding out on the ground.
Now he was never gonna get on Ymir's team.
Opposite him on the table, Armin and Mikasa clinked their bottles together, smirking.