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There’s a soft buzzing in the air
Practically imperceptible as it blends seamlessly with the bustle of life around Armin. The uninhibited chatter between close friends, the typical commotion of public spaces, beneath those layers of sound and activity, a simple buzzing. Soft but insistent, inaudible to all but the blonde haired young man.
It started the moment he devoured Bertholdt all those years ago. Blinding flashes of light and sound. Darkness and heat. A sickening aftertaste of iron and salt that resurfaced whenever anxiety seeped its way in like a slow poison.
And then the gentle warmth of the sun shining down on him. A gorgeous day, as if pain and death didn’t surround the wreckage of the city, threatening to drown the world. The beauty seemed to mock him, a juxtaposition of the pain in his heart, and the never faltering progression of the world as it moved ever onwards.
That’s when the buzzing started.
The process had been sickening; acclimating to the powers of a Titan. Every surge of power followed by the remembrance of what this vehicle of destruction has done to his home, his friends. The very thing that almost killed him, is now under his control.
The buzzing is never the same. Its cadence, intensity, volume. All of it shifts with the day, the mood, the location, the company.
A life of its own, muffled behind glass. Locked away, but always present.
Armin knows
But he doesn’t
But he does
_____________________
It diminishes into a murmur, whispering a pang of remorse and affection when Armin looks at Connie. Or Jean. Or Historia. A quiet pain of what used to be and what could have been.
To Armin they had never been anything but dear friends, confidants, allies. But now new memories lurked, like oil and water, a whole new set of emotions separate but ever present.
Armin now watches as shaking hands assist Reiner and Annie, roughly tearing Marco’s ODM gear from his body, heart wracked with guilt. A titan steps closer, the shingles of the roof rattling as tears fall from those freckled cheeks. Never a hateful word spoken towards his killers, always wanting to understand, even to his last breath.
He sees Ymir, attempting and failing at casually pushing close to Historia, her heart adamantly on her sleeve. A tough exterior that belies a deeper intimate softness and vulnerability. The pain in her eyes as she joins him and Reiner, moving away from her love, and towards her own execution a sacrifice for the happiness and protection of those she cares for.
A family of Titans surround Connie as if posing for a family photo; each in turn towering over him. The father casually rested a giant hand on Connie’s shoulder with an arrow firmly wedged into his eye. The mother lay atop a house, eyes screaming through a frozen expression. A brother and sister, climbing a nearby tower smiling brightly without a care in the world, the sound of ODM gear closing in on them faintly overtakes the buzz for a moment.
Wide-eyed recruits, listening to a story, so long ago. A sickening lurch when Armin sees himself staring back at him in a memory of his own but not, nestled between Eren and Mikasa, listening to a tale of fiction but reality; an illusion of comfort told by someone who wasn’t him, but now was.
Small soldiers clustered on a roof staring back at him with tear-filled eyes as he’s lifted up, up, up toward an open mouth-
He knows
But he doesn’t
But he does
A fluttering of fear in his chest when Armin sees Mikasa, the dull red flash of that scarf, those calm calculating eyes. A dull ache in his ear, and a gaze of fierce determination through the slit of tough armored fingers surrounding him. He can hear pleas and questions and threats in the background, all falling away before those dark eyes.
The way the cadence heightens, like vibrating strings on a violin when Armin looks at Annie. Or Pieck. People he didn’t know, but he did now. A duet of equal parts longing and pure love hanging invisible in the air.They understood him, how could they not when they had been side by side with him throughout his life, through training, through selection, through bloodshed-so MUCH bloodshed and loss.
The way the buzzing stops dead whenever Armin looks at Reiner. As if holding its breath, terrified of ruining the moment. The buzzing has stopped, but a sea of emotions bubble and boil up within him.
Memories passing like shooting stars, brilliant iridescent glimpses of a past that doesn’t belong to him.
But they do
But they don’t
Hands squeezing one another walking in the dark. Chaste touches concealed behind shadowy barracks, soft insistent kisses and muttered professions in the stillness of night.
Downpours and thunder, running through a storm, weighed down by heavy packs. Is it training for a soldier, or a warrior? Interchangeable agony and exhaustion through a haze of raindrops.
Some of these memories are Armin’s. He recognizes those moments resolutely as his own. Tucked away with Reiner arguing over Titan anatomy, speculation melts into humor until laughter fills the room, a moment of solace in the tiring day-to-day.
Firm hands clasping his chin, lifting his gaze to rest on Reiner’s handsome face, eyes crinkling at the edges as he grins unabashedly. Warm weight from his hands sending an electric current surging through Armin’s body. Tentative and yearning in equal measure.
And in a flash, some memories are not his. Larger, heavier hands clasping Reiner’s firm chin upwards instead of downwards, different lips pressing against him. The same feisty grin from Reiner, delivered to someone else.That smile, that kiss, they were for him
But they weren’t
But they were
___________________
Every night it’s the same dream
There is sand but no ocean
Stars but no sky
In the dream wherever Armin looks, Colossal Titans stand; statues of flesh, unmoving at the edge of his vision. Surrounding him. Caging him. Generations of a shared agony.
The buzzing is louder now, a steady roar that raises the hairs on the back of his neck.
He takes a step, and his foot sinks deep into the sand, a bottomless well containing the grief of decades, millenia. Still, he pushes onward, searching for the one before him.
Always in the distance, Bertholdt’s silhouette rises from the sand. Unmistakable; forever the tall lanky frame crushing in on itself to appear smaller. He stares back at Armin as he approaches but never reaches him before he wakes.
Until the night the Rumbling began.
Tonight Armin draws close enough to see there is anger in Bertholdt's eyes. But there is fondness as well. Betrayal and love. Jealousy and peace. Just like he used to be; soft but resolute, quietly overpowering in his presence.
Friends, now enemies, now allies of sorts, sharing the same legacy, the same fate. Two parts of a grander whole. Their memories and feelings are no longer private; their emotions and experiences blended together into an amalgamation neither good nor evil, just there.
Bertholdt offered the smallest of smiles, a thin curve upturning on those gentle lips. A hand reaches out, inviting Armin closer. He gently extends his own hand, stretching his fingers out, nestling them in Bertholdt's heavy hand. He squeezes the taller man’s hand ever so slightly, tentative, unsure what could accidentally undo this moment..
What is there to say?
A sea of words want to rush from Armins mouth. Accusations and confessions, questions and retorts, but they lock in his throat. Because it hurts. It hurts to see someone he loved suffering; trapped. A love at the heart of the misfortune and pain that this cruel world threw at him.
All he could do was grip that hand tightly with all of his being; the whites of his knuckles shining in the gloom. He felt that large hand slowly squeeze back. A quiet reassurance. His love, received and reciprocated, unknown until now in this phantom dreamscape.
What could have been if they had both known. Could things have changed?
The buzzing swells into a song, gentle notes echoing beyond the furthest reaches of Armins mind. There are no words or notes to this concert, just heart and soul.
He loved
And he was loved
When Armin awoke, the buzzing was gone; a staunch silence after so many years of it’s intrusion.
It wasn’t until days later, as Reiner and Armin stood side by side next to the others, staring at the sea of Colossal Titans led by Eren. A thousand visages of flesh and bone belonging to ancient men and woman who had suffered this fate. And yet in each towering monstrosity, there was Bertholdt. Or a whisper of him carried over within a sea of fracturing mirrors.
An enemy, ally, friend, lover, or simply a person that they know. Or had known.
Without thinking, Armin's hand moved towards Reiner's, fingers gently interlocking with one another. And that familiar song swelled up from the silence into Armin’s ears, tears gathering in his eyes. He spared a glimpse at Reiner to see tears of his own streaming down his face. He could hear it too.
The song was for Armin
And for Reiner
It was for them both