Work Text:
He let out a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling, and placed his arms over his eyes in anguish. ‘Why can’t I sleep…’ Turning to look at the man beside him, he grinned, moving Armin’s bangs out of his eyes, and placed a small kiss on his forehead. He bit his lip, staring at the door, and silently rolled off the bed, ignoring the quiet groan from his lover, and carefully shuffled out the door. He took one last look at the sleeping blond, then quietly closed the door and headed to their basement, in search of mere peace... again.
Every night was the same, and the exhaustion was catching up to him, but his mind refused to shut off and let him fall victim to peaceful slumber. He was tired of sleeping for 2 hours, feeling sick and feeling chained down to the relentless guilt that resided in his brain and it was getting old. He was free, yes, but he wasn’t free from his mental anguish and it ate at him every night.
He whisked his sketchbook off from the table and headed back upstairs, taking a turn to their window, and peered out into the ocean. The ocean view was as beautiful as ever, but his mind refused to keep the beauty and only viewed the sea as something that separated him from his past of being a part of the life they lived before Eren’s sacrifice.
He wasn’t sure what triggered his thoughts of Marco, Sasha, and the ones they lost in the past, but his brain refused to move on and it left room for sleepless nights and an endless amount of guilt. Survivor's Guilt. He wasn’t an Ackerman, and neither was he ever a titan shifter, yet here he was, still alive because of fate... or destiny. Whichever the case was, there was a small part of his brain that questioned whether it was a blessing or curse.
‘Maybe I'll draw Marco… ’ Last night it was Floch, which didn’t turn out too badly, but there were small details that he was missing from the sketch. He flipped to a blank page and allowed his brain to enter auto-pilot as he sketched the lesser defined parts of Marco. ‘His eyes…’ He hummed, placing his finger on his chin. ‘What color were they?’ After one minute, his brain came up with nothing and he rolled his eyes, moving onto his hair, but his memory failed him again and he placed his sketchbook down on the window seal and stared. ‘Don’t panic… he’s somewhere in there…’
He stared into the distance of the sea, clenching his jaw. ‘No, he’s back there... dead just like everyone else you failed…’ He swallowed harshly, pivoting back to his sketchbook, and drew whatever came to mind. He refused to forget his original inspiration for joining the Corps. He refused to forget Marco. ‘I can’t forget him…’
Tear after tear, loose pages flew freely in the air as his anguish grew with each minor detail that was wrong. ‘Wrong, it’s all wrong!’ He let out a frustrated groan and jumped when a hand fell onto his shoulder. Armin. It was just Armin. He calmed down a little and let out a small sigh.
Armin gave him a blank look, holding waded-up pieces of paper and he looked back to the sea. “Jean, is something going on?”
“What’re you doing awake?” He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t NEED to talk about it. He was fine.
“You’re my heater.” The blond yawned and gathered more pieces of paper from the other side of the couch and presented it to him. “Jean-”
“I’m fine.” He slid his sketchbook away from Armin’s view and smiled tightly. “So you can go back to bed, okay?” He leaned in to plant another kiss on his forehead, but Armin moved away and continued to gawk at him. He scooted away, feeling uncomfortable at Armin’s gaze, and a bubbly feeling arose at the discomfort and he laughed, hoping to defuse the tension. “Why’re you looking at me like that, darling?”
“Jean, this is the 15th night you’ve done this…”
‘Of course, he’s keeping count…’ He let out a huff, unsure of how to respond, and did the next best thing he knew how to do in situations that made him feel over-exposed. ‘ Make a joke’ . “And this means this is the 15th night I’ve thought of dead cadets.” He paused at his own words and cursed inwardly at himself. ‘Why the hell did I just say that…’ Armin was for sure not going to let that one go. He felt Armin’s intense gaze and shifted in his spot, feeling the discomfort from before returning.
“Okay, it’s very clear that we need to talk about this issue.”
“All I did was make one bad joke.” He refused to look at Armin. Looking meant caving in and accepting that there was an issue when there wasn’t an issue because he’s fine. Nothing was wrong with him.
“Are they nightmares?” Armin was so soft-spoken and it always made it harder not to give in and tell him the issue.
“No.” They weren’t... or at least he was pretty sure they weren’t. He would fall asleep and either relive the death of his friends or hear disembodied voices because his brain couldn’t recall what half of his dead friends looked like. Even the dreams that weren’t gruesome were still morbid because he was always faced with faceless cadets that his brain couldn’t remember and it hurt knowing that not only did he fail them, but he was taking some dead cadet’s spot that deserved to be alive.
“Well, I’m not going to sleep until you tell me what the problem is.” Armin let out a defiant sigh and began fiddling with his fingers. “I know you think that you’re fine, but it’s obvious you aren’t and I’m tired of you lying to yourself-”
“But I’m not lying to myself, I am fine-”
“When you’re restless and on the verge of sleeping, you talk in your sleep,” Armin intertwined their fingers, letting out a deep sigh. “Jean, when you talk in your sleep, you are either switching between apologizing to dead soldiers or regretting your existence and I never brought it up because I didn’t have solid proof that there was an issue, but this.” Armin motioned to torn up paper and reached under his arm to snatch the sketchbook. “This is why I’m concerned.”
“You’re concerned because I’m drawing?” He scoffed, pulling his hand away.
“I’m concerned because I know you’re drawing our old friends to punish yourself-”
“You told me to draw to cope and I am, so what is the issue?”
“So you admit that you’re drawing to cope because there’s an issue?” And there it was. Armin’s little way of trapping him. Sometimes he forgot how smart Armin was. He was so used to seeing him use most of his brain-power on militaristic planning that he forgot Armin was just... Armin. No more Commander Arlert… Just Armin.
He turned to defend himself, but sharply inhaled, afraid to close his eyes at the sight before him. He wasn’t seeing Armin, but he was seeing Commander Arlert . The black uniform, the tousled hair, and the blood. ‘This... this isn’t real…’ He shook his head, scooting further away from him, and turned back to the ocean, blinking rapidly. ' This wasn’t happening.' At any moment, he could wake up back on the airship, ready for another day of planning for the war. He grabbed his chest, feeling a heavyweight press against it. ‘Fuck... fuck... fuck…’ Titans. War. Death. That’s all there was and nothing more.
“Hey, Jean…”
“This isn’t real…” He whispered, placing the palm of his hands over his ears and focused his eyesight on his knees. ‘This is too much…’
“What isn’t real?” Armin placed his hands above his own and tried prying them away from his ears. “Hey, I’m right here with you-”
“I can’t breathe,” He cried, feeling pitiful. This shouldn’t be happening. Everything ended a year ago, yet here he was not being able to grasp reality. “I can’t…” The pressure on his chest tightened. “This isn’t real!” He wanted this to end. He needed this to end. ‘This is what you get for surviving... redeemable people like Marco should be here, not you!’
“Look at me,” Armin’s gentle voice snapped through to him, but the pressure lingered on his chest. The blond pried his hands away from his ears and placed soft kisses on his knuckles. “Breath with me, okay?” He did as told and allowed his lungs to follow the pace of Armin’s breathing and the pressure from before slowly lifted. “What color are my eyes?”
“They’re hazel brown, but sometimes they look blue...”
“What do you smell?”
“The salt from the ocean…” He slumped his shoulders, feeling exhaustion take over as his breathing regulated to a reasonable pace.
“You’re here, with me right now Jean, right next to the ocean-”
“How do I know that?” He made a move to whisk his hands away from Armin, but the blond only held onto them tighter, giving him a reassuring look. “How do I know I won’t wake up on that stupid airship, planning on how to stop the Yeagerist or I won’t be dangling from Eren’s titan form?”
Armin silently stood up and disappeared into their dark hallway, before returning with a small blade, a napkin, and a bandaid. The blond positioned himself on his knees in front of him and stuck out his finger and he ceased Armin’s wrist.
“What’re you-”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” He didn’t hesitate to answer and surrendered his wrist, watching his next moves closely. Armin winced, setting the blade over his finger and slowly cut a straight line on the tip of his finger and he examined the blood dripping loosely onto a small napkin. He waited patiently for Armin’s explanation, but the blond merely smiled, causing him to worry even more. “Nothing happened.”
“Exactly,” Armin smiled at him wistfully. “It’s not healing as fast as it usually would if I was still a shifter.”
‘Oh, I see…’ He hummed, feeling sheepish, but he was more relieved than he wanted to admit and his nerves were settling into a calmer state. He wasn’t Colossal anymore because it was over. No more titans. ‘This isn’t a dream, it’s real…’ He stared at the cut for a bit of reassurance and reached for the bandaid.
“Let me put it on you.” It was the least he could do, seeing as Armin harmed himself for his sanity.
“You know I can do it myself, right?”
“Yeah, but I want to help you.” He sealed his fingers and allowed Armin to intertwine their fingers.
“Why do you get to help me, but you won’t let me help you?” Compassion returned to Armin's voice, and he wasn’t sure why. All he did was put him through stress, and yet Armin was still here... being patient with him. ‘I don’t deserve him…’
He looked up at the blond, who was inspecting his finger, and he smiled, feeling warmth invade his heart. ‘ Armin’ . Out of everyone from the Corps, Armin was the last person he expected to be with and sometimes it seemed too good to be true. It made little to no sense to him how he was being repaid with someone as perfect as Armin, considering how much of a nuisance he saw himself, but Armin had clarified that he was nowhere close to a nuisance.
Armin made him feel an unexplainable amount of comfort and security and it was scary at first because he had gotten so used to losing everyone around him… so he was hesitant. Not because he didn’t trust the blond, but because anyone he seemed to trust died. He trusted Armin more than he wanted to admit and was more than grateful that Armin returned similar feelings enough for them to be “boyfriends”. Armin kept him grounded and safe, yet he couldn’t stop running because a part of him knew it was easier to run, rather than to come face-to-face with the truth that he was having issues.
“Because I love you and I love helping you.” A silence filled the void, but he could hear Armin’s thoughts. They were going to talk about “it” and a sinking feeling filled his stomach.
“Be honest with me.” Armin looked down at the carpet and traced his hand on the pattern. “Do you trust me?” The sinking feeling worsened at his question, and he felt a severe ache in his heart. “If you don’t, that’s okay too, but I want to get to a point where you feel comfortable with-”
“I trust you,” He interjected, sitting up straighter. “I trust you with my life and with everything else.”
“I just want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me when you’re struggling, but you don’t and I just…” Armin sighed tiredly. Of course, he was tired. Armin was always patient with him, yet he continued to shy away from his arms like an idiot because he was scared. “If I’m doing something wrong to make you feel you can’t lean on me, please tell me.”
“You’ve done nothing, other than be perfect.” He whispered, letting out a bitter laugh. “I just hate talking about it because I’m just scared.” The thought of Armin blaming himself because he was too much of a coward made his stomach churn. Armin, so patient and selfless, didn’t deserve to feel unsure about himself because HE continued to mess up.
Armin looked bewildered at his confession and adjusted himself to show that he was listening. “What’re you scared of?”
He stared conflictingly at the attentive blond and a nauseous feeling returned. His nervousness returned at being put on the spot, but he stared further into Armin’s eyes and saw nothing but care and concern. ‘It’s just Armin.’ Nodding hesitantly, he stared at the carpet and said the first thought that came to mind.
“Well for starters, I have these dreams, not nightmares, just dreams of everyone and a small part of me is tired of remembering them because when I remember them I just feel so disgusted with myself for being here, and then I question every night, why was I the one that got to live, and those thoughts make me feel like I just shouldn’t be…” He paused, wanting to phrase his next words carefully.
“You shouldn’t be where?” Concern replaced the compassion in Armin’s voice, but it was different. It was urgent. It was fearful, and it made him not want to see “that” look in Armin’s eyes and he stared off into the distance of the ocean, and a small breeze came through the window. “Where is it you think you shouldn’t be…”
“Here.” Tension lingered in the air and his brain wanted to cope by laughing. Joking. Running. Doing something that didn’t involve him feeling so emotionally naked.
“Where…” Armin swallowed harshly, struggling to get his next words out. “Where do you think you should be, then?”
“Dead.” There it was. The inevitable pause returned, and Armin remained silent, but he knew his thoughts were working rapidly. He waited for him to just get up and walk back into their bedroom and act as if he didn’t just drop a bombshell, but Armin remained still.
“Why do you think you should be dead…” The blond sounded so soft, yet small and uneasy, and it only made him feel worse.
“Because I’m so tired of feeling this guilt of being alive, and I know I should be happy but it’s so hard to just feel that joy when I know that there were so many people who truly deserved to be in my spot,” He let out an uncontrollable sob he didn’t realize he was holding in. “I mean, I was just some dumb kid who settled on joining the MP’s because I wanted a safer life, and now I’m alive while actual people who truly wanted to put their life on the line are dead and I don’t deserve to be here.”
“Yes, you do.” Armin was tender yet stern and used his thumbs to wipe the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He wasn’t one to cry and wasn’t even sure why he was crying... but it felt relieving. “You deserve to be alive because you worked hard like everyone else and you continued to put your own life on the line just to be here and ensure the safety of others.” Armin grabbed the sketchbook from underneath his arm. “And as long as you’re alive, you’re always honoring and carrying their memories and what they fought for.” Armin cupped his cheek with his left hand. “You and I both know Marco would be so proud of you right now.”
He sniffled, allowing Armin to wipe another lonesome tear from his cheek. Armin was right. Of course, Armin was right, he’s Armin. Marco would undoubtedly tell him to pursue art and not waste his talent in drawing things that would lead to breakdowns. “I just don’t know how to feel okay without feeling sick with myself because I’m living the life that other people deserve.”
“Then let me help you, please?” Armin placed a soft kiss on his jawline then pulled him into a warm hug and he gradually reciprocated, squeezing him tighter. The longer he held on, the less he wanted to let go. “I know you’re tired, believe me, I understand, but I want you to know that you just existing and being here, even if it’s just laying in bed talking about all the different shading pencils there are, is more than enough.” The blond pulled out of the hug, then situated himself in his lap. “Live for yourself and if you feel you’re losing purpose or the guilt is coming back, just tell me and I’ll always be here to catch you when you fall.”
He hated sappy phrases, but something about Armin’s last words caused something within him to break. He knew it was okay to speak to others about his issues, but Armin’s words reassured him that the safety and comfort he craved would always be there without judgement... and now he was riddled with guilt... but this time it was from his behavior concerning Armin. “I’m sorry…”
Armin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why’re you apologizing?”
“I don’t know, I just...” He barely knew why he was apologizing, yet he felt like it needed to be said. “I know that sometimes I can be complicated and over-dramatic.”
“Jean, you having panic attacks and not wanting to be alive is not over-dramatic.” The blond gasped, and the dreadful look returned. “Is that why you didn’t want to tell me this?” He shrugged, biting his lip, and heard an exhausted sigh come from his lover. “Good grief, Jean, you need to stop invalidating every emotion that you have.”
“I know, but you’ve gone through worse.”
“Don’t power scale our trauma, yours is just as valid and you don’t deserve to punish yourself over this…” He opened his mouth to express himself, but Armin silenced him with a deep kiss and he hummed, feeling his body go slack. To his disappointment, Armin pulled away but continued to lay kisses on his cheek. “Thank you for opening up to me-”
“Why’re you thanking me, I should thank you because of how patient you are with me…” He felt his cheeks warm up as Armin wrapped his legs around his midsection and placed his head on his shoulders
“I know how hard it is for you of all people to open up to others and I’m just glad you’re mine…” Armin muttered, as his head grew heavier on his shoulder and the blonde let out a soft hum.
“You’re not making any sense…” He received another hum and realized Armin was gradually falling asleep on his shoulder. ‘He must be exhausted…’ He looked at the clock that resided on the wall that read 4:32 AM and poked Armin’s rib. “Well, are you going to get off?”
“Carry me,” He sighed, reluctantly standing up and dropping his arms to his sides as Armin’s legs and arms squeezed him tighter. “Nice try asshole,”
“It would’ve been kind of funny if you fell,” He muttered. He closed the window, whisked his sketchbook off the cushioned chair, and headed straight to their bedroom. Tonight was more eventful than he expected it to go and, for once, his usual “night anxiety” had dissipated. He felt free. ‘I’m so lucky to have him…’ He stood in front of their bed, waiting for the blond to unglue himself, but Armin remained attached. “You can let go now.”
“But you’re so warm…” Armin sounded genuinely unhappy, and he refrained from laughing at his apparent distress. After 2 minutes of trying to pry him off, Armin’s body gave out, and he fell onto the bed and sprawled his body out. He shoved the blond over and buried himself within the sheets, and Armin was back on his arm. “Next time I’m going to trap you on this bed, I’m tired of you taking the warmth with you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” He caressed Armin’s cheek one last time before placing a soft kiss on his button nose. He felt his eyelids get heavy and for the first time in 15 days, he felt his mind relax with ease and squeezed Armin’s hands.
“Are you awake?” Armin whispered, leaning his head onto his shoulder.
“For right now, yeah, why?” Armin had gone quiet, and he knew a serious question was soon to follow.
“Earlier, you were having a meltdown, and you kept saying that this isn’t real... How often does that happen?”
‘Oh, I forgot about that…’ His first reaction was to lie to avoid putting Armin through more stress, but squashed the idea in an instant. ‘He just wants to help you…’ He reminded himself of Armin’s gentleness from earlier and settled his mind. “You promise not to get mad?” He was met with silence and poked his rib cage. “Armin-”
“Okay fine.”
He cleared his throat, using a fisted hand to scratch his eyes. “Well, they’ve been happening for about 15 nights now.” Armin’s body tensed up within his arms and he shifted on his side to get a better view, using the moonlight that was peeking through the window. “You said you wouldn’t get mad…” He softly caressed his cheek and noticed the glossy look in Armin’s eyes. ‘Please don’t…’
“I’m not mad,” Armin sniffled. “You just scared me and I just…” The blond tried to free himself from his grip, but he pulled him into his chest, resting his chin on the top of his crown. “I didn’t know what to do…” He felt warm tears against his collar bones and pulled Armin in tighter.
“I’m sorry about that-”
“If you feel you’re on the verge of a meltdown, please just tell me and I’ll find a better way to help you through it, okay?” Armin pulled away, placing a soft kiss on his chin. “I know it’s even harder for you to talk about them, so we can take this one step at a time, okay?”
“Okay.” The corner of his mouth tugged into a small smile as he stared at Armin. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” The idea of taking everything day by day sounded more appealing than he thought and a new feeling blossomed in his stomach, and, for once, it didn’t make him feel sick. Instead, it made him feel hopeful, and he was looking forward to the next day. ‘One step at a time,’