Chapter Text
"Are you okay?"
Red and swollen, the cuts across your knees were nothing serious, yet the sight of them still caused your stomach to churn. The embarrassment and injustice of the situation bubbled in your lungs, stealing your breath. You gasped out tiny whimpers, your voice refusing to steady itself.
You didn’t answer him, the blonde boy standing in the grass before you. You didn’t want to acknowledge him or his soft gaze. Hot tears threatening to overflow from your eyes, you angled yourself away from him, furiously swiping at your eyes, brows knitted in frustration.
"I saw them push you." he continued, taking a few steps closer, one arm extended out, but you rose to your feet before he could reach you. The blonde was a little taller than you, his eyes bright blue and full of concern. You had seen him around the neighbourhood - racing with two friends in front of your driveway as your dad unloaded boxes from the rental van just days prior.
"I’m fine!" The words came out harsh, your jaw clenched and face hot with embarrassment. "I don’t even know them, they’re just-"
"Jerks." he interjected, stepping closer to brush away some leaves that clung to your sweater around your shoulder. Before you could stop yourself, you agreed with him, head hung. You didn’t know this boy, but you didn’t want him to see you cry - especially since he already saw why.
You felt like a fool standing there, your clothes dirty, and face swollen with tears.
Why did this always seem to happen? Your dad’s job meant the two of you moved every few years, and wherever you went, you seemed like a magnet for bullies.
"I’m Armin," the boy said suddenly, already shouldering your backpack he had lifted from the ground. "Believe me, I know how you feel. I get picked on a lot too, but my friends are always there to help me."
His smile was kind, as was his voice, and you watched him intently. "We could help you too."
A small smile sneaked its way onto your tearstained face. "Yea?"
"Yea!"
His warmth seemed to engulf you, an air of understanding falling easily between the two of you as he walked you the short distance to your house. Along the way, he told stories of his two friends. The way Armin spoke of their bravery they sounded like superheroes, you thought to yourself. The way his eyes shone when he talked about them, you couldn’t help but yearn to be part of this dream team.
Standing on your short driveway, he promised to introduce you to them at school the next day.
"Really? Thank you!" you beamed at him. Making friends was definitely not a skill you lacked, what with all the moving around, you never struggled to make connections. Yet the perspective of this friendship seemed more important than others before.
You briefly thought back to the conversation with your dad, on the drive down in the rental van. He’d told you this was your last move for a long while, possibly the last one ever. That was the reason he’d taken the job, he’d said, so that you could really settle down here and make some good friends.
Dad always did have great timing.
"You don’t need to thank me, that’s what friends are for!" Armin grinned back, and all seemed right in the world.
Clank
You looked up from your book and around your bedroom, unsure if you had imagined the faint noise. It was quite dark, except for the golden glow of the nightlight and the digital alarm clock, flashing as though to emphasise that 1:43 was too late to be awake, even during summer.
Clank
You were certain you heard it this time, to your right where the balcony sat behind drawn curtains. Placing the worn book on your bed, you walked slowly toward one of the large windows that flanked the balcony door, pushing back the curtain just a little.
Clank
You saw the pebble as it hit the glass this time. Your brows furrowed in confusion, yet as you opened the glass door you instinctively knew who must be out in the garden.
"Armin? What are you doing?" you called out softly into the cool night.
"Y/n? I’m so glad you’re still awake!" he called back excitedly, from halfway up the tree framing your balcony. "I have news!"
"What?" you laughed. "What news?"
"I’m coming up!"
You halfheartedly protested, struggling to keep your voice low in between giggles, but it was no use. Armin was already stepping over the balustrade.
"I got in, I got into university! I got into the university!" he exclaimed, his blue eyes positively radiant in the dim glow of your balcony.
"No!" you gasped, elated for your friend. "Min, congratulations!" you wrapped your arms around him a little too excited, knocking him into the balustrade. He returned the gesture, and the two of you stood like that for a solid minute - you babbling about how happy you were for him, how much he deserved this. Armin laughing and thanking you over and over.
He’d gotten the email late last evening, he explained, and wanted to wait till morning to tell you but after pacing his room for a couple of hours, unable to calm down, decided he should just go and tell you now. He wouldn’t be able to get to sleep if he didn’t.
"What about your grandad?" you asked.
"He’s already asleep, I’ll tell him tomorrow." he brushed it off, like telling you first was the most natural and obvious thing in the world.
You really were so happy for him, and not at all surprised. Of course he got in. He was so intelligent and hardworking.
What did surprise you, was the sudden feeling of wetness on your cheek.
"What’s wrong?"
"Nothing I just," you sniffed, quickly swiping a hand over your now-red cheek. "I’m so excited for you, I guess I’m just going to miss you," you admitted.
You felt like such an idiot for crying. You should have been happy, just happy.
"Miss me? As if I’d even give you the chance." He was hugging you again, tighter this time. You leaned into his tall form, resting your head against his shoulder.
He’d visit on the weekends, it was only a two hour drive, he reassured you. You nodded into his chest, still feeling silly for the tears, for taking attention away from this great achievement of his.
"Besides," he concluded. "It’s your dream university too, so you’d better get in next year!"
Grief can be, and often is: such a physical sensation.
Grief is real as it is ghostly. As present, as lodged in the half-veiled archives of memory. It is incredibly innate to the body-
like second skin.
Excerpts of Notes on Grief drifted through your mind as you sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly out onto the buildings and roads as they sped by. Though really, it was you who was speeding by.
Grief reminds you of how framed you are in the architecture of your body.
It isn’t always alienating but simply demanding of your attention-
which is quite a big demand to make.
But just a kind of here-ness.
It helps sometimes; to think of grief as simply an invitation to be back in the body.
An invitation to be back in the body. An invitation you had so fully accepted, you suddenly felt quite out of context in Armin’s car. Like you had just come out of anaesthesia, or started watching a movie midway through. Armin was speaking, both hands gripping the steering wheel. He must have been speaking for a while, and you must have said something back that he did not agree with, you must have, and he sighed.
But all you remembered was the mismatched shades of black, my condolences spoken over and over, as more and less related hands shook yours. A glass of water, suddenly in your hands. The harsh dryness in your mouth told you that you had not drunk it.
Then nothing. Then Armin, and you, and the car, with its engine humming, stopped at a red light.
"Y/n," he said quietly, his eyes searching all over you. "Do you really disagree with me?"
"Hmmm?" you breathed.
He smiled, all gentle unconditional kindness. "About you taking some time off from university, I really think it would be for the best."
"I only have a semester left."
"But you could also just graduate in the fall." He pleaded with you.
The car wound through familiar, narrow tree-lined streets.
"We’re going to your place?" But what you really wanted to say was thank you.
He nodded. Where else? "Or, if you’d rather graduate with Historia and Sasha I bet you could do that just based on the credits you already have. I’ve seen your grades, you’d be perfectly fine."
"Armin, I- it’s-" your voice broke, its pleading tone echoed his. The car finally rolled to a stop outside his building. Neither of you moved from your seats.
Feeling sheltered from the world in that parking space, tucked away at the end of a dead-end street, you finally let go. Loud, ugly sobs rattled your chest, tears streamed down your face obscuring your vision, your breath came in choking gasps.
Credits. Graduation. Picking between fall or summer, this year or next. None of it was the issue, you told him in between sobs. You didn’t need a break, you needed things back to normal. Back to that middle school afternoon, crying over a scraped knee, not this. Back to being worried about how school will be without your best friend, you whimpered, not how life will be without your family.
You heard the swing and slam of car doors opening and closing, the click of a seatbelt being undone. "You have a family, I am your family," he whispered, kneeling down beside you so that your eyes were level, and you noticed the tears welling in his eyes. You nodded silently, worried that speaking would bring about another round of sobs.
His palm cupped your cheek and he wiped away a couple stray tears with his thumb. "I am right here, y/n. I will always be right here."
Inside the apartment, body exhausted, mind milder, you watched him gather some of his own clothes for you. He delicately handed you his favourite green t-shirt and a pair of soft pyjama pants to change into, before stepping out of the bedroom to give you some privacy, heart beating heavy in his chest.
Himself now changed out of the stiff suit, he walked back in some minutes later, steaming mugs in hand. You were already in bed, Armin’s sheets enveloping you in their familiar warmth. They smelled of vanilla and citrus and safety. You whispered thanks as he set the mugs on the bedside table, and slid in next to you. He pulled you close to him, his body fitting against your own so naturally. Finally, you let yourself relax, head laying on his chest.
"How am I ever going to be able to go back to that house?" your voice was barely audible.
"You can stay here as long as you need," he said, and you knew he meant it.
"Would you move in with me?" you asked, without fully processing the meaning of your request. "Just for a while. The house is big enough, and I cannot bear the thought of living there alone."
"Yes. Yes, of course." he said, without a moments’ hesitation. He would do anything you asked.