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He leaves the bags on the bed and takes out his phone.
I already arrived at the hotel. He’s tempted to add traitors to the end of the message, but he holds back. It's not their fault that they couldn't go. Well, yes, but not quite.
He guesses that Mikasa didn't plan for her boyfriend to trip down the stairs and fall right on top of her, nor does he think that Eren planned to trip at the bottom of the stairs. The two ended up with a broken leg and arm, respectively.
If Armin didn't know them well enough, he might have thought maybe they did it on purpose. Though, he knows a distracted Eren is dangerous, and Mikasa is usually the first one to stop him from getting hurt. Sadly, this time, it went wrong.
The trip had been spontaneous.They saw the sign on the street, they thought about it for two days, and they came back to save a spot. That had been two weeks ago. Armin later found out the place was a senior friendly travel agency, which is, like, an extra detail. There’s nothing wrong with that if you go with your best friends.
Now, if you go alone… It’s a bit lonely, you know? It's not like you can meet people your own age.
Like his new roommates.
“Hello, hello, sweetie!” greets the lady. “Oh, you're so young! How old are you?”
“Well–”
"I'm sure you're the same age as my grandson," she says and looks at the man who accompanies her. “Don't you think he's the same age as the baby?”
“Huh” asks the other, probably half deaf.
“I said if you don't think he's the same age as the baby!”
“Who? What baby?”
“This boy.”
“Huh!?”
"This boy!"
Good thing it's only a week. Only four days and three nights. Ninety-six hours. Five thousand seven hundred and sixty minut–
“Sweetie!”
“Huh?”
"Oh, don't tell me you're deaf too," the lady giggles. “What's your name?”
He smiles, pretending he's not in pain. “Armin.”
Still, he's kinda cruel. Just because he's not with his friends doesn't mean he won't have a good time.
He’s going to get the most out of this tour. They are in a historic place, the guide– who, he must point out, is a person around his age, is telling the story behind everything they see.
Armin knows it, surely he told this same story to dozens of elders, probably his ego grows from doing these things.
And he's mean, a fucker, according to some of his friends, so he can't resist being mean to this guide used to meek, deaf-eared customers.
“How long ago was this sculpture built?” It's a simple question, even he knows it.
“It was built in…” correct, “but the curious thing is that it arrived here twelve years later.”
Huh. He didn’t know that.
"Cool," Armin smiles, and the guide smiles back, then heads off to the next thing to see.
He likes him.
The tour is short, calm because it is the first day, and they arrived a few hours ago. The hotel welcomes them with the food ready, a dinner without salt, nor cholesterol, nor anything that could kill a person over sixty-five.
It’s not that bad.
Armin’s sitting with his roommates, they are nice. The lady talks a lot, and he suspects that the man is not deaf, but only pretending so as not to listen to his wife.
There are about ten tables distributed in the room, all the people from the same travel agency. He sees the guide, too, the only young man besides him. He’s sitting at a table with all the ladies and looks uncomfortable.
It's not like he's staring at him for any reason, it's because he's directly in his line of sight. The ladies are all over him, they all talk at the same time, they want to feed him in the mouth. It’s kinda funny and embarrassing, maybe a little pitiful because the guy’s an employee, he can't be rude to women even if they are.
Dinner’s over. Armin likes his roommates, but not the fact that they can't sleep in silence. It's not like they talk or snore, which they actually do, but Armin is used to that. The problem is that they sleep with the TV on full volume. It’s impossible to sleep like that.
He has no idea how many hours he slept, but he suspects it was a few from the burning in his eyes.
“Everything's fine?" It's the guide, he's at the entrance to the dining room, greeting everyone before breakfast. "You look sick.”
"No, no, I just slept like shit." Armin chuckles and runs a hand over his face.
“Ah, that sucks, if there’s a problem with the room, we can complain to the reception.”
"Everything's fine, my roommates are the issue," he smiles slightly, and the guide waits for an explanation. “They sleep with the TV on. And they are deaf.”
“Ahhh! Yeah, that's common,” he giggles, “well, if there's anything I can help with, don't hesitate to tell me.”
Armin smiles, barely walks past for breakfast.
Second excursion, this time in the oldest part of the city. Sleepiness affects Armin, he can't think straight his questions.
“And what is that?” He points to a building and the guide looks at him.
“It's… a new one, I think it was built about three or four years ago?”
“Oh.”
It was a stupid question. The tour continuous and Armin feels dumb.
They stop for lunch, and he meets the guide at the entrance to the dining room.
“That question was kinda complicated, huh,” he's teasing him.
“Yeah, uh, looks like I'm still asleep.” And now he's a little hungry, so he takes a step, except the guide gets in the way.
“I think… I don't remember your name,” he smiles, and Armin smiles back.
“I don't remember yours either.”
“Oh,” he chuckles, “I said it like six times… Good to know you're paying attention to me.”
He jokes around and, if Armin wasn't an adult, he wouldn't have noticed that he's flirting with him. So, he answers in the same way.
“Now I'm paying ate–”
“Excuse me,” says a man. The two take a step to the side, they are occupying the entrance space.
Two more people pass and the two look at each other. Armin smiles.
“My name’s Armin.”
“Jean Kirchstein, tour guide.” He holds out his hand to him, pretending he's a professional.
“Oh, full introduction?” takes his hand, “Armin Arlert, Art History student.”
“Ahh… that explains a lot,” Jean giggles, but he doesn't let go. “I hope that my guides exceed your expectations.”
“You're doing fine,” he concedes.
The afternoon gets chilly, they turn on the heating in the van where they are transported, Armin appreciates traveling with a group of old people with no tolerance for cold. They arrive at the hotel and everyone goes to their rooms to rest before dinner. He looks up for Jean, he had been working up the courage all day to ask him.
“Hey! Is there any chance that I could change rooms?” He has an apologetic expression, already sorry for asking, but he laughs lightly, trying to cover it up. “I don't think I can last the whole trip.”
"Sorry, but there are no more rooms available." Jean smiles the same way.
"Oh, okay, it’s alright. Thanks, though.”
Armin’s leaving. Well, he can sleep with headphones on.
"Although…" Jean's voice stops him. He turns to look at him, getting a grimace in return. “I have an extra bed in my room, but I don't know if it's… inappropriate?”
“Ah–! No, no! I'd really appreciate it, actually.” He smiles.
"I snore quite loudly,” Jean jokes.
"I think I can handle it," he says with a chuckle.
Jean smiles again, Armin imitates him, and they are still standing in the hotel lobby, practically alone because the rest of the people have already returned to their respective rooms. What the hell are they doing standing there?
“May I help you?” someone asks from the reception, and that's what makes them move their feet.
“No, no, thanks!” Jean answers, then turns Armin around. “So… uh, yeah, I'm going to clear out the other bed, ‘cause I kinda dumped my stuff there.”
He nods, the other follows suit. Jean stands for a second and then turns, heading for the stairs. Armin follows him with his eyes, smiling softly, and then goes to the elevator, to gather his things as well.
The next day, he wakes up in a very good mood. Jean snores, but it’s nothing compared to the television screaming the day's weather forecast at four in the morning. He gets up and changes to go to breakfast. In the middle of it, he gives the other a glance, wondering if he should wake him up or not. Probably not, Jean didn't say anything the other night. He leaves without making a sound.
They meet each other in the dining room at breakfast. Armin’s already finishing his coffee, sitting by himself, taking advantage of the fact that few have gotten up yet. He checks his messages, texts Eren and Mikasa, asking how they broken bones are doing.
“I didn't know you were an early riser.” Jean joins him. He has a coffee too and croissants.
“I am,” he replies, and doesn't know how to continue the conversation. “And, uh, what do you have planned for today?”
Jean looks at him for a moment, he's surprised.
“Well…” a smile begins to show, “well, I don't know…”
“To,” Armin says, “to guide, I mean.”
“Oh! Ah, well, according to the schedule, today’s…”
Today it's a forest and a lake. In itself, it doesn't sound that interesting, but the lake is wonderful, and the forest is full of national trees. It’s an ecological reserve. The whole view is beautiful, and Armin doesn't shy away from taking photos of everything.
He doesn't hesitate to ask Jean about everything, either. He has to admit that, at this point, he has a competition inside his head, in which he wonders who’ll go further, him, answering everything, or Armin, looking for the question that leaves him quiet.
"And why is it like that?" he questions, Jean's eyes immediately falling on his.
"Very good question," he says determinedly. He talks a little more, saying some information that is moderately relevant, but besides the point. He wants to throw him off because he doesn't know the answer. “Did I answer correctly?”
"Oh, of course you did," Armin smirks, the feeling of victory filling him completely.
The tour resumes, his smile doesn’t fade. They get some free time, to go around and see for themselves, but all that Armin can go around and watch is Jean… his walk, his feet stumbling due to carelessness, his gaze on the horizon till the moment when he says ok, I've seen enough.
"Sweetie," a lady calls him, his former roommate, "we're going to have dinner tonight, come with us."
"Oh, thanks, but I don't think–"
"Aw, come on, the trip is for having fun," she insists and then elbows him, "that includes eating like fuckers and drink some booze, right, sweetie?"
He laughs more out of commitment than anything else, “well… we’ll see…”
They return early from the walk. They all go to their rooms to rest. Armin and Jean are laying on their beds, one reading, the other with the TV.
They yawn.
“Sweetie!” The abrupt knock on the door startles them. “Sweetie, get ready to go out!”
"What the fuck?" Jean questions in a whisper, sitting up.
“It’s–”
“SWEETIE!”
“ONE MOMENT!” He yells back as well. Jean lets out a laugh and falls on his back. Armin goes to the door and opens it. "I do not know if…”
He means that he doesn't feel like going out at all, and he's a blink away from falling asleep.
“But, come on, darling! It seems like you are seventy, and I am fifteen,” the lady scolds.
“But I'm twent–”
"In ten, I'll be back for you– and you," she peeks over Armin's shoulder. “You.”
“Me?” Jean puts a finger to his chest, laughter still tickling in his throat.
“I want you down in ten as well, did ya hear?” The lady says and leaves.
Armin slowly closes the door, totally resigned that he's going to have to go.
"I didn't know you came with your mom," Jean says.
"She's not my…" he says with a scowl until he sees that he's fucking with him. “Come on…”
Jean laughs loudly again. Armin returns and throws himself face down on his bed.
"Come on, the ladies are waiting," says the other, getting up and taking off his shirt.
Armin turns in bed and glances at him. He can only see Jean’s back while he’s going through his bag, looking for something to wear. He outlines his spine, each vertebra standing out under his tan skin and telling him you're staring. Armin quickly looks away, but it's only for a few seconds, because he goes back. Now, Jean is sitting on the floor, inspecting his clothes, giving this outfit far more importance than necessary.
He is leaning forward, hunched over. The little rolls of his skin gathering and hiding the abs that Armin is pretty sure he has. Well, it wouldn't be bad if he had them.
Jean straightens up, surely because he found a t-shirt. As he puts it on, Armin looks again at his stomach, which has no abs, just a belly, a beer one probably, but he can't say he's disappointed by the discovery.
He’s damn fine.
“Are you gonna change?” Jean turns to him and Armin closes his eyes almost at the same time. “Are you asleep?”
“No,” he says, and then rolls onto his back. “Should I change? I'm fine like this.”
“Of course you are,” the other replies, and he isn't sure if it's sarcasm or not. Armin looks at him and Jean quickly averts her head, not sly at all. Was he checking him out?
He gets out of bed, stretches and looks at his clothes.
Nah, he's fine like this.
“How I look?”
Armin turns to see Jean. It's ridiculous how good he looks, since he's in regular clothes. Dark pants and sweater, white sneakers. It must be the most common and cliché outfit he has ever seen, but, on Jean, it's–
“Decent,” he answers lightly, unsure if any compliments would be weird.
“Oh, I was hoping you'd tell me I look gorgeous or something,” Jean jokes.
“Or something?” he returns, searching his own bag for another jumpsuit to put on.
“Uh-huh,” he says. Armin hears him sitting on his bed. “Like, oh, gosh, I can't believe I'm sharing a room with the world's hottest tour guide .”
Armin looks at him with a laughing grimace, and Jean smirks at him, prompting him to repeat it.
“You're kinda smug, aren't you?” He says without losing the tinge of laughter in his voice as he takes off his sweatshirt and the shirt he’s wearing.
“Nah, only when I'm kidding… And when I'm not, too, not gonna lie,” he lets out a laugh.
When they go downstairs, the lady seems anxious. She says finally!, and everyone leaves. Coming with them are also her deaf husband and other women who don't waste a second praising Jean, telling him how good he looks and how much better he would look in a picture hanging in their room. He just laughs lightly and nods at the words but, as soon as he finds an opportunity, he walks away from them, walking behind the group with Armin.
“I thought you liked compliments,” he jokes.
“Well, I like them better when they come from people no more than three times my age,” he replies.
“Three times?” That worries him a bit. He barely laughs and looks at him. “How old are you?”
“How old you want me to be?” He jokes and giggles. “I'm twenty-seven– I still can get into the club.”
Armin lets out a laugh.
“I’m twenty-five.”
“Ah, so they triple your age,” he points out.
“It seems.”
They arrive at a restaurant.
“Mr. Guide,” a lady calls Jean, “sit down here.”She says, and the other ladies giggle.
“Ah, thanks, but it's too hot on that side,” he declines and sits down across from Armin.
“Better this way, you're too covered, darling,” another adds, and they all break into laughter.
Jean laughs out of commitment, and when he turns to the other, he's holding in his laughter.
“Hey, I'm suffering over here,” he complains in a whisper.
“I'm just seeing a great opportunity here,” Armin returns and receives a curious look, "maybe they end up inviting you drinks."
“Oh, God…” Jean covers his face as he laughs.
They have a good time during dinner, the ladies are fun, kinda inappropriate with Jean, but fun at the end. They order a bottle of wine and then another when they are finishing eating. The ladies get louder and louder and begin to make Jean uncomfortable. Armin has already lost count of how many times the other looked at him with a gesture of yikes.
“Hey, do you wanna leave?” Armin murmurs after a suggestive joke.
“Ah, yeah, we can continue in the room,” he replies and clears his throat without waiting for an answer. “Well… we’ll leave first…”
“Already?” Armin's former roommate says, “the night’s young, sweetie!”
“It's just that Armin is tired,” he lies, "we only have one key, and he falls asleep very soundly."
They pay their share, say goodbye quickly and head back to the hotel.
“Beer or wine?” Jean asks as they walk past a store.
“Ah– surprise me,” replies the other, unprepared. He waits for the other outside.
Jean comes out with a bottle in a paper bag, and they walk fast. It is a cold night, something normal in winter.
They get to the room, Jean leaves the bottle on the bedside table, takes off his jacket and kicks his shoes off into a corner.
“Your bed or my bed?” He asks to sit down.
“I don’t mind,” Armin says, taking off his jacket.
“You're not someone who likes to make decisions, are you?” Jean laughs, sitting down on his.
Armin barely laughs. He takes off his sweater and his sweatshirt, then his shoes. He sits next to Jean.
“What did you buy?”
"Wine, the only thing they had– isn't it weird that they don't have beer? It's like, the most common.”
“I guess?” he shrugs. “I don't usually buy alcohol this late.”.
“You don’t drink a lot?” he asks as he takes the lid off.
“I plan my day well and buy it along with dinner,” Armin chuckles.
“Ahh, so you're organized,” he takes a sip from the bottle and passes it to him, “you look like that.”
“Organized?” he makes an amused face, “I thought that without the glasses, people would stop assuming it.”
“Did you wear glasses?” He laughs.
“What's that laugh?” Armin looks at him with a raised eyebrow, but Jean shrugs. “Come on, tell me.”
“You are really curious, aren't you?” he giggles, avoiding the subject, “you ask a lot.”
“Of course,” he replies and takes a drink from the bottle, “I like to know everything about anything.”
“Ah, sucks to know that your interest in my guides is genuine curiosity and not…” Jean laughs to himself. He leans back against the wall, resting his arms on his legs, and looks up at him, a side smile on his face. “It's nice to see someone who really cares.”
"You make it quite interesting," he says, also with a smile.
This is the moment when Armin wonders why he spent all high school studying and not learning to flirt.
“Sometimes, there are people who don't even give a fuck.”
“That sucks.”
“Fuck yes, I feel like I'm talking to the walls.”
“I listen to you, it’s cool what you say.”
“Aw, stop it,” Jean giggles embarrassed, so much that his cheeks turn red, although perhaps they were already red from before because of the alcohol, “if you keep like this, I'm gonna have to kiss you… Keep doing–”
That gets a laugh out of Armin.
“You're not subtle at all, huh.”
"I think I never showed you otherwise," he looks at him with tired eyes and wiggling his eyebrows.
This could be the moment when Armin kisses him. They're alone, Jean gave him way too many hints to do it, but his body doesn't move. He likes him, and it’s more than clear that he does too.
“Anyway,” he prefers the tangent, “I really like how you guide.”
“Tell me more,” Jean replies, genuinely interested in what he’ll say.
The bottle is half full. He has no idea what time it is, but he does as the other says. Armin tells him every little detail that drew him to him, that made him almost forget about the place he was visiting to fix his eyes on the other.
There’s little wine left when Jean sighs tiredly.
“God… how come, right?” he says it in a tone as if it were a joke, although Armin doesn't get it, “you kept talking, I guess now I'll have to kiss you.”
Jean kneels on the bed, facing the other, showing how determined he is.
“Unless you don't want to,” he offers, giving the situation more reality and presenting a small, tiny doubt in Armin's head, despite the fact that he wants to be kissed just as much.
He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. So he denies. Later he realizes that it’s a confusing gesture, so, to affirm how predisposed he is, how eager he is, he approaches the other a little.
Jean smiles, air blowing out of his nose, and then grabs the other's face, pulling it toward him. It’s soft and tender, lightly caressing his lips, testing the sensation.
Armin wants to get closer, but he can't. The kiss ends, but he clings to the other's arms so that he doesn't get too far. He kneels too and kisses Jean again, but it doesn't last long because his legs hurt.
“Fuck,” he whispers, irritated as he feels like they can't find the right position.
They keep trying how to get–- with kisses in between, until they end up lying down, the most logical option but, for some reason, the one they avoided the most. Jean hugs his neck and Armin has his arm under the other, stroking his back. Jean caresses his face, traces it with his fingers, touches his cheeks, his neck, goes to his nose and pinches it.
“What the fuck,” Armin whispers against his mouth, barely parting to look at him, but the other doesn't answer, just searches for his mouth again.
Jean is playful and not in a sexy way. He lightly pinches his face, he pulls away occasionally, waiting for Armin to stretch more to find him, he blows into his mouth.
"Okay–" Armin says when he blows at him for the third time, "seems like someone doesn't know how to kiss like a grown up.”
"Oh, of course I do," Jean replies. He kisses him lightly and looks at him again, "but I don't want to."
He looks for his mouth, and Armin pulls away from him. Jean looks at him with a raised eyebrow and moves closer again, but the other moves away.
"Oh, now we play like this?" he sighs, stealing a laugh from the other. He sits up on the bed and pins Armin under him. “Now you can't turn your face away from me.”
“Ah, so proactive, do you have that on your resume?”
"Obviously, wanna see it?" Armin laughs, but Jean doesn't show it to him, he just keeps kissing him, biting his mouth and then trailing saliva down his neck, drawing sighs from him.
They don't know when they fall asleep, but they do know when they wake up.
When someone’s knock on the door.
“Mr. Guide!" It's a lady, “are you okay? Breakfast is almost over.”
“Y-Yes!” He replies startled and Armin elbows him half asleep, “I just fell asleep… In five, I’ll be downstairs!”
Jean yawns and stretches, then turns to Armin, who is still crumpled in the corner. He barely caresses his face, removing some hair from there.
“Come on, get up!” He says later and shakes the entire bed, jumping up, receiving the other's growl. “Are you hungover? You can’t take shit.”
He laughs and Armin looks at him slightly, with red eyes.
“What?” he puts his arms akimbo, “wanna kill me with your stare?”
“With my hands, actually,” he mutters and starts to get up as well.
They’re still wearing last night’s clothes. Jean goes in the shower first and then Armin.
When they arrive in the dining room, breakfast is over and everyone’s getting on the bus, the last tour of the trip. They go to the city center, the tourist trap with overpriced souvenirs and overpriced food stalls.
“Are you gonna buy something for someone?” Jean asks, coming out of nowhere. They're in one of those souvenir shops.
“For my friends,” he nods, "they were going to come too, but they couldn't."
"What kind of person would miss out on this, oh, wonderful trip?" He jokes.
“They broke some bones,” he answers and Jean looks at him, waiting for the punchline, “for real, a leg for one, an arm for the other.”
“Was it some kind of intricate excuse for not coming?” He chuckles.
“I wish, but really. I had to take them to the ER.”
They chat more, about trivial things, as they continue walking through the store. Free hour ends, everyone is taken to a renowned restaurant for tea.
Jean finds it impossible to take his eyes off Armin, but it was like that since day one, thanks to the first question he asked. He was irritating at first because Jean thought he was just being annoying. It turns out he wasn’t.
Now he enjoys his questions– except when they're bullshit questions, a futile attempt to try to make a fool out of him. Like now.
“I know what you're trying to do,” Jean says when they sit down at a table.
“What?” He has the nerve to pretend he didn't notice, "I'm just showing interest."
“You're just showing that you’re a little shit.” Armin laughs.
“Oh, does it bother you now?” He keeps teasing. Jean doesn’t get to answer, as a few ladies join them at the table. “Excuse me, I'm going to the bathroom.”
Armin says and gets up.
“Me too, start ordering,” he adds and follows the other.
He catches up to him halfway, and they continue in silence until Armin enters the bathroom, a small room with two sinks and two stalls, empty at the moment.
Armin gets in first, but Jean follows closely, almost on his heels. He turns around and Jean leans in, searching for his mouth. He's been wanting to do that for hours.
He puts one hand on the other’s waist, the other he uses to support himself on the sink, where Armin is also leaning on, looking for some of the balance Jean’s taking from him with all his body, so close, almost wrapping him, preventing any millimeter of distance forming between them.
Armin caresses his neck and his hair, but his hands end up on Jean’s shoulders, where they press and push him away.
“I really wanted to go to the bathroom,” he says.
“Oh, wasn't that a hint?" Jean giggles, a little embarrassed, “well, I didn't see you suffer that much either.”
“Go to the table,” Armin kicks him out, but the laughter in his voice makes him less menacing.
This time, Armin is the one who is woken up by a knock on the door. He doubts for a second if he really heard it, but he buries his face in Jean's back when it doesn't repeat.
“Mr. Guide?” They knock again, “there is an emergency.”
“Hey,” Armin barely moves him, "they're calling for you."
Jean growls slightly.
“Mr. Guide?”
“Come on, man,” Armin shakes him harder and the other sits up, looking at him over his shoulder, "they're calling you at the door."
"Uhh…” he gets up heavy, Armin's arms that were hugging him fall on the bed. He shuffles over and opens the door. “What's happening?”
What happens is that a person is sick, which is not so serious in itself, but being that they are three thousand kilometers from their home, a few hours from returning to the city and this person is over sixty years old, it’s kinda serious.
They are sitting at the reception, waiting for the ambulance. Armin yawns for the fifth time, and Jean looks at him.
“You don't need to stay,” he says, “go back to sleep.”
“No, no, it's fine, besides– if I'm awake now, I'll be able to sleep on the bus and the trip will feel faster.”
“You don’t like it?” The other makes a face. “Why?”
“It’s boring,” he giggles.
An hour passes. The ambulance doesn’t arrive.
“I spy, with my little eye…” says Jean. Armin has his head resting on the other's shoulder. “Something begging with– oh, thank God, the fucking ambulance’s here."
He gets up quickly from his seat, and Armin nearly falls over.
They go to the person's room, the paramedics check him out, give him an injection and call it a day.
“Huh, I thought they would help more.”
“I feel like crap,” the sick person complains.
“They also left a sleeping pill,” Armin points out and looks at them. “Should we save it for the bus?”
“Sounds good.”
A few hours later, they are already on the bus, back to the city. Jean thanks everyone for choosing to travel with him and hopes they had a good time.
“And if they didn't have a good time, they can go fuck themselves,” he mumbles as he sits down next to Armin.
“I had a good time,” he says.
“You don't count, I made an effort to make you have a good time,” he chuckles and caresses his hand.
Armin smiles too and grabs his hand.
The trip is fast, he hardly feels the twenty hours of travel because he spends it sleeping. By the time they reach the city, he is already quite awake. Jean’s on his phone, his head still resting on Armin’s shoulder. People begin to get off, the bus leaving them at their stops.
“What's your stop?” Armin asks, seeing that they are getting closer and closer to his.
“Ah, the last one,” he glances at him, “yours?”
“I think the next one.”
“Oof, you live downtown?”
“Yeah," he laughs, "is there something wrong with it?”
“I live in the suburbs,” he returns. Jean sits straight, "I was thinking… This was quite fun…"
“I think so too,” he smiles looking at him, but his eyes are not in the other’s gaze.
“Would you like to visit my house on the weekend?” Jean suggests. Armin notices from afar the relaxed façade that hides his nerves.
“It's kinda far…” he scrunches his nose, “and I just met you.”
“You could stay all weekend, and I'll give you a ride on Monday,” he insists and then runs a hand through his hair, as if he were a leading man in a soap opera, “believe it or not, I even have a car.”
Armin lets out a laugh.
“Sounds great.”