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You’re awoken by soft footsteps shuffling across floorboards.
The sound draws you gently from your slumber; so gently, in fact, that you wonder if it’s just a figment of your imagination, a mere flicker of something produced by your brain. Certainly not something real, something flesh and blood, something human.
However, it persists, followed promptly by the creak of the door as it’s eased shut. Bemused and suddenly wary, you shift to your other side, lifting your head from pillows that immediately beckon you back to their warmth. A figure shrouded in inky black shadow stands at the foot of the bed and you know exactly who it is before the shaky whisper leaves their mouth.
“...(Y/N)?”
You prop yourself up on your elbows as your eyes adjust to the near-total darkness. “Armin?”
It’s like instinct. You’ve known each other since you were nine, and his presence alone has its own unique comfort that no one else’s has. You know you can always detect it in a crowd, on the battlefield, and now in the middle of the night in these silent barracks.
Even so, a spark of worry ignites itself in your chest. You guess the constant paranoia is a testament to the precarious and oftentimes deadly nature of your lives these days.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong,” he reassures, instantly calming your kindled nerves. “It’s just… I just had a nightmare, and I needed to know you were okay.”
Your heart breaks for him. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry, Armin. We get a lot of those these days, huh?”
“Yeah. Too many.”
“Well, fortunately, I’m just fine,” you say, hoping he can hear the smile in your voice despite not being able to see it.
His laugh is little more than a relieved breath. “Thank goodness. Uh… if you don’t mind, could I maybe… stay with you for the rest of the night?”
You smile, genuine and uninhibited, flooded with sympathy. “Of course. Come here.”
Having spent many sleepless nights huddled under a blanket with him as you’d exchange whispers about what lay beyond the walls, neither of you two feel awkward or strange at the notion.
You’re so comfortable with each other that when you beckon with a nod of your head and draw the sheets back for him, it’s almost second nature.
The ancient bed creaks beneath you as you scoot to the side to allow him space. He climbs under the covers beside you, his form radiating a warmth that no inanimate piece of fabric could ever provide.
You roll over to face him. Now that he’s at a closer proximity and your eyes have had time to adjust, you’re able to discern his features more clearly. Subdued starlight paints itself across the apples of his cheeks and the gilded ends of his blond hair and the tip of his nose that is somehow always, unfailingly, tinged pink. Familiar blue eyes find yours and for a brief, blissful moment, you’re both children again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask. “The dream, I mean.”
“Oh. Well… you probably don’t want to hear about it.”
“If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine. I just find that sometimes verbalizing a bad dream out loud can help take the weight of it off your chest.”
“You’re right. I’ve never thought of it like that,” Armin muses, considering. “Okay, then, I’ll tell you. We were finally in the process of retaking Wall Maria when you and I got separated. I split off from the rest of the group to go find you, and I heard your screams, and… and b-by the time I was cl-close enough to anchor, it was t-too late.”
It takes you a moment to register that he’s crying. You had been listening so intently that you missed the signs, the quaver in his voice, the slight wobble in his bottom lip, the tears that well up in his opalline eyes.
“I couldn’t save you, (Y/N),” he stammers, voice faltering as a sob tears through him. “You were right there in front of me and I couldn’t do a damn thing. I froze again. And when I woke up I didn’t feel any better because I know at any moment that nightmare could become a reality.”
Shattered, you reach for his hand under the cool linens that cover you both and thread your fingers through his reassuringly. “Oh, God, that’s horrible,” you breathe. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s just—I just can’t imagine losing you. There’s no life worth living without you in it.”
“I can’t imagine losing you either,” you sniffle, succumbing to your own tears. “But right now, we’re alive, and that’s all that matters.”
“B-but what if one of us does die the day we retake the wall? What if that actually h-happens?”
Armin shakes more violently with each word until his hand slips from yours and his whole body is drenched in a cold sweat. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and grits his teeth as he weeps uncontrollably.
“Armin, look at me.” You gently free his vision again and cradle his wet cheek in your hand, angling it upward. “Remember what I told you the night before we joined the Survey Corps?”
He blinks, salty beads collecting on long blond lashes. “You said ‘C-Come hell or high water, I’m with you,’ right?”
“Right. That’s a promise. No matter what happens, no matter where I am, I’m still with you and I’m never gonna leave you,” you say, wiping his tear-streaked face with your thumb. “You can’t get rid of me, Armin Arlert.”
He manages some semblance of a smile and you pull him into a much needed hug. Despite everything, despite the bleak, seemingly hopeless future that faces both of you, at least you have each other. And in this little pocket of time as the world burns around you, a promise of hope is made in the darkness.
That’s enough to feel free.
“Try to just think about this moment, yeah?” you say, rubbing gentle circles into the base of his spine, which he reciprocates. “Just focus on my heartbeat.”
“M’kay,” he mumbles, burying his face in the sacred space between your neck and your shoulder. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”
“Me too. But right now, this is enough.”
You stay like that, limbs tangled, warmth on warmth, as you drift ever closer to sweet sleep again.
Before you’re all the way out, one last thing leaves your mouth.
“We’re gonna see the ocean one day, Armin. I promise.”
And you mean it.