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The thing about Hell, Eren found, was that it felt both painfully endless, but also as if no time had passed at all. He could roam aimlessly for what he imagined were hours through the vast plains of orange-red sand and grey skies, only to wonder if he’d actually gone anywhere. It was as if this little sliver of what he knew must be a monstrously large underworld had been designed just for him. It gave the illusion of freedom, but continued to taunt him with how trapped he really was.
And maybe he did deserve his own personal torture chamber—he had destroyed nearly eighty percent of humanity, after all. Somewhere in his father’s memories, he’d heard stories of how this place was supposedly structured. The worse your sin, the further in its depths you would be placed to carry out your eternal punishment.
Surely, he was right at the bottom, with the worst mankind had ever produced. Alone, with nothing but his thoughts, and the heavy weight of memories that only partially belonged to him.
The power of the titans was long absent from his veins, so it had initially surprised him how much he had been able to retain. He still had moments where he recalled something that felt new to him, something that he clearly must have already known, but hadn’t processed when he was alive. It was vaguely fascinating to see how much a single human brain could hold onto. But in the end, he couldn’t be too surprised, seeing that he’d met Armin.
Armin. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d seen Armin. Well, truly saw him—for real. Eren still saw his likeness everywhere. That was the most cruel part of his punishment.
He’d spent most of his life fighting to give the ones he loved freedom, happiness, and safety. But in the end, he’d put them all at risk anyway. It was only fair that in the afterlife, he’d be destined to watch them suffer, over and over.
It had felt so real the first time he saw Armin there. He’d smiled so widely, rushing towards him. He’d thought Armin had kept his promise until his sparkling blue eyes filled with pain and he fell to the ground, evaporating into dust. When Eren looked down, his fingers were wrapped around the handle of a familiar blade, slick with blood.
He’d sobbed so hard he thought that he might die again from dehydration. But that would have been a mercy he didn’t deserve.
So when he saw the familiar figure again, for probably the ten-thousandth time, he just stared at it blankly and waited to see whatever nightmare he’d be living that day unfold.
Armin didn’t seem to notice him at first, which was odd. He stood facing the opposite direction, staring out into the emptiness. Except it wasn’t empty anymore. The ocean had appeared, and lapped at his shins as he stood in the shallow. The water was crystal clear, not a hint of the pollution or horrors that Eren had grown to associate with it.
When the figment didn’t turn around for long enough to make Eren antsy, he decided to just get it over with. He crossed the distance between them, and stepped into the water. It immediately turned red around his legs, though it didn’t spread beyond his little circle.
Armin's head turned at the sound of splashing, and he gasped quietly.
“Eren?”
Eren met his stare. He wished Armin wouldn’t speak. It was always the worst when he talked to him. Eren simply nodded, and slid his hands into his pockets. He thought maybe if he kept them tucked away, he could avoid being the culprit when Armin died this time.
“So this…?” Armin trailed off before he could finish the question, but Eren knew what he was asking.
“Hell,” he confirmed. “Part of it, anyway.”
Armin gaped at him, then looked back to the waves that were getting rougher out on the horizon.
“I didn’t think Hell had an ocean.”
Eren was becoming increasingly wary of how normal Armin was acting. The calm pace of this wicked scenario was only going to make it hurt so much more when it ended.
“It’s an illusion. Like you.”
Armin frowned, and then turned around to see the rest of Eren's, for lack of better words, home.
“Why do you think that?”
Eren turned as well, though his gaze fell to his feet, and something caught his attention before he could answer. Below the water sat a light blue seashell. He reached down to grab it, but instantly retracted his arm as though he'd been burned when it transformed into a clump of teeth and hair.
Armin slowly crouched down and submerged his hand, then successfully pulled the shell out of the water. When he handed it to Eren, it retained its shape in his palm.
Eren’s brows furrowed. He wished the other shoe would just drop already. He couldn’t figure out what the catalyst would be this time. Usually, it was fairly obvious. He clenched his jaw and curled his fingers around the shell, willing it to give him the strength for whatever was coming.
“Because it always is. And you always leave.” His voice was rough, and thick with grief. “Swallowed by a titan in Trost. Blown to bits by the Garrison’s cannon. Burned to a crisp, and the Captain won’t give you the injection. I’ve seen them all hundreds of times. But this one’s new. I’m sure they’ve found an especially heartbreaking way for you to die this time.”
Armin's eyes were deeper than the ocean behind them. They were filled with so much sorrow that a lump began to form in Eren's throat as he stared into them. The last time they were in this position for real, he’d cried like a baby. He thought he might do so again, but the tears wouldn’t come forth.
“I’m already dead, Eren,” Armin said so quietly it was almost a whisper.
Eren let out a dry laugh, and faced the water again. With as much force as he could conjure, he chucked the shell far out into the surf. He glared at the spot where it broke the surface, and cursed whoever was toying with him from above.
Armin’s hand gently rested on Eren's shoulder, but he raised his arm to slap it away. He backed up a few steps, eyes wide with bewilderment. He didn’t think it was possible for Armin to look sadder, but he managed.
“Stay back,” Eren ordered. He was starting to shake.
Armin held his hands up near his chest, eager to show his willingness to comply.
“I died of old age,” he recalled wistfully. “I was seventy-nine. I lived a long, full life. I imagine I took this form because it’s how you remember me.”
Eren didn’t believe him. How could he? Even if Armin had intended to keep his promise, there was no way he would be allowed to have him again.
“You’re lying. You’re not real,” Eren snarled through gritted teeth.
Armin sighed, then steeled himself with determination. “I’ll prove it to you.”
“How?”
“I… don’t know yet. But I will.”
He tried to come up with something, anything; but when he failed to find a good enough way to persuade him, Eren shook his head and walked out of the water. Once he was a good distance away, he sat down in the sand and decided he couldn’t be bothered to keep playing this game. If he didn’t participate, they’d eventually grow tired and just get on with it.
Armin didn’t follow him.
~*~
Time was still a mystery, but it was easier to keep track of with someone else around. And Eren knew that it had been far too long since Armin had arrived for this scenario to be following the typical pattern.
Usually, he would have slept at some point to pass the time, but he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes until he knew what was going on. Until he knew it was safe enough.
Armin kept his distance, though Eren would regularly catch him staring with a longing that was so tempting it was dangerous. Near the shore, he was building a sand castle. Every so often, a large wave would crash into it, and he’d have to start again. But he didn’t mind—at least it gave him something to do.
Eventually, Eren grew curious. Clearly, this wasn’t working. Maybe he did need to hear Armin out before this could end. It struck him as strange that he had to work so hard for his own suffering. Regardless, he begrudgingly dragged himself across the sand, stopping just far enough from where Armin was working. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted like a moody child.
“Tell me about your life,” Eren grumbled.
Armin looked up at him, his eyes alight with hope. Eren looked away. Armin cleared his throat.
“Things were rough for a while, after…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “But, we helped rebuild civilizations. We facilitated peace talks. We protected a lot of people. And… Annie and I got married.”
Eren choked, coughing aggressively as the news took him off guard. He didn’t know if it was real or not, but it was shocking enough to pull a reaction out of him.
“Annie? Like, Annie ? Leonhart?”
Armin hummed and nodded, carving out a moat around his castle.
“We had a couple of kids, too.”
“How did that happen?”
A small smile tugged at Armin's lips. “A lot of perseverance, and a little help from Mikasa.”
Eren froze at the sound of her name. Armin noticed, and his smile vanished. Instead, he just looked nervous. Eren swallowed thickly.
“What about her?”
Armin looked like he didn’t want to answer, which only made Eren want to know even more. He stepped closer, and then hovered his foot over the sandcastle. It was a weak threat, but Armin gave in.
“She, um. Well, she…” He scratched his neck, unsure of where to start. “She never stopped loving you until she was old and frail. She visited your grave often. She was even buried with your scarf. I attended the funeral.”
Eren's heart fluttered, shaking off a layer of dust, but his eyes narrowed. “What are you leaving out?”
Armin chuckled, uneasy.
“She married Jean.”
Eren lowered his foot beside the other, leaving the castle untouched. The water came and crashed into it anyway.
Mikasa had married… Jean ? Eren's head was spinning trying to process the idea. In fact, he was starting to feel a bit sick to his stomach. It made him realize he was starting to believe in the Armin in front of him more than he wanted to.
“Now, why the fuck would she do that?”
Armin laughed. Hard. So hard that tears sprung to his eyes. Eren didn’t think it was much of a laughing matter, but the sound warmed him from the inside out. Even if it was fake, it was nice to hear after so long.
“Because he was actually a good guy. He took care of her,” Armin insisted. “And he understood that he would never be the number one man in her life.”
Eren had to admit, the thought filled him with pride. But then he started thinking about the other things that marriage implied, and the feeling turned sour.
Armin didn’t try to rebuild his castle again. He just stared at Eren, who noticed that his eyes did carry the weight of someone much older than he appeared.
“Do you believe me yet?”
Eren hesitated. It would be nice not to be alone anymore. It would be a dream to have Armin next to him for the rest of eternity. But it didn’t make sense.
“I don’t know.”
That was at least progress to Armin, though. He seemed content with Eren's answer for now.
“I guess only time will show you,” he murmured.
Lord knew, there was lots of it.
~*~
Eren didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep. He and Armin had been sitting quietly next to each other, watching the water for an extended time they couldn’t measure. They didn't speak, but continued to enjoy each other’s company peacefully.
The waves had calmed, and a beam of sunlight peaked through the clouds; it glimmered over the water. Eren was highly suspicious of the view, but he thought he might as well appreciate its beauty before it all fell apart.
He’d felt relaxed for once—too relaxed. He must have closed his eyes for a moment too long, because when he opened them again, he was staring at a young Mikasa.
His blood ran cold.
“Eren.”
Why was this happening? He’d never had two people ‘visit’ at once. There was never any crossover.
And he hated this one.
“Eren, wake up.”
He pushed himself up from where he was lying in the sand. In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair, confirming Armin was still there. He was sleeping on his side directly to Eren's left.
Eren kept his eyes locked on Mikasa, though. She straightened herself too, and then stood up to leave.
“Let’s start heading back.”
He didn’t want to say his lines. But he’d found pretty quickly that it didn’t matter, anyway. She’d just adapt.
“Were you having that dream again?” she asked as she started walking away.
He wanted to tell her that it never stopped.
Before she could get too far, she turned around, eyes widening as she took him in.
“Eren, why are you crying?”
He knew there were tears. He didn’t need to touch his face to feel them anymore. They always appeared, without fail. He shook his head, and followed after her.
They walked for a bit, and Eren noticed that eventually, he couldn’t see Armin anymore. It was the first time he’d been able to tell he had gone somewhere, and that the cabin didn’t just appear in front of him. He looked over his shoulder in the direction they’d come and hoped he hadn’t just lost who he was starting to suspect might be his friend. There were never footprints in the sand for him to trace backward.
When he turned back to the cabin, Mikasa was gone. But he knew where she was. The stairs creaked as he slowly climbed them to the front door, dreading what was about to happen.
Fight.
He pushed the door open, and when he stepped through the frame, the room seemed a lot taller than it had a moment earlier. He was back in his nine-year-old body.
He stabbed the first guy before he could even get a word out, not flinching as the body fell to the ground, blood gurgling in its throat. He slashed at the next one recklessly, but it was like muscle memory. He used to play along and scream, just to relieve some tension. But it got old real fast.
He finished with the adults quickly, which left only one other person in the room. A young, battered Mikasa, tied up on the ground. His feet felt like cinderblocks as he trudged forward to untie her.
Right on cue, the third guy showed up, and Eren flew across the floor as he received a powerful kick to the gut. He hit his head a lot harder than how he remembered it actually happening. His vision blurred, and his limbs felt too heavy to lift. He was helpless but to watch as the man grabbed the knife off the floor and headed straight for Mikasa.
“Eren!” Armin’s voice called frantically as he entered the cabin. “Eren, are you okay?”
“Save her…” Eren barely mustered up enough energy to get the words out. He strained against the weight holding him down, attempting to drag himself across the floor with his hands.
“Save who? What are you talking about?”
Eren looked to Armin, then back to Mikasa, who was cowering in fear as the man towered over her. Frustration flooded his body, tears building against the lower rims of his eyes.
“Her!”
Armin was quiet for a few seconds. His voice was full of sympathy when he spoke.
“Eren, there’s no one there.”
Eren wanted to close his eyes so badly, but he wasn’t allowed.
“Little shit. More trouble than you’re worth,” the man growled.
A single tear fell from Eren's eyes as she gasped, and then never made another sound. Armin kneeled beside him and cradled him against his chest.
“It’s alright… I’m here.”
Eren didn’t object this time and accepted his embrace. He selfishly stayed where he was for longer than he probably needed to. But it was hard to let go after—supposedly—sixty years without any human contact.
“How did you find me?” he asked when he felt it was safe to speak without cracking.
“I followed your footprints.”
He shook his head. “There were no footprints.”
“Then how did I find you?”
He frowned and sat up, leaning back so he could examine Armin’s face.
“Do you see the cabin?” Eren gestured around them. Armin shook his head. But suddenly Eren didn’t see it either.
They were back at the water.
“I don’t get it!” Eren shouted out into the sea, his frustration taking hold of him.
“What don’t you get?” Armin asked from his side.
“How can you be here? This has to be some kind of sick joke! They’ve gone to every extent to torture me, and you’re telling me they just let you waltz through the door?”
Armin sighed and kicked a pile of sand into the air. He wasn’t phased by Eren's outburst. “Well, not exactly.”
Eren watched the grains fly off in the breeze as the wind picked up. Armin kept his eyes trained on the ground.
“I did some terrible things in life. I deserve to be here. But I also did some really great things. So when I landed in purgatory… we made a deal. My reward just happens to interfere with your punishment a little. Though it doesn’t seem like we’re having quite the same experiences here.”
Eren couldn’t believe his ears, but it sounded like something Armin would do. It was just like when they were cadets. Armin had thrown away a comfortable life inside the walls for one of endless pain and heartbreak; insistent on following Eren wherever he chose to go.
Eren fell to his knees. Before he could police it, a gutwrenching sob kicked off a whole parade of broken sounds as he fell apart. He trembled, and shook with each sob that rocked his core. It was deeply cathartic.
Armin was there with him.
He’d managed to keep his promise.
He always did. Eren should have never let this place make him lose faith in the one person who never let him down.
“We’ll be together forever, now,” Armin said softly as he crouched down in front of him.
The words echoed in Eren’s memories.
“You really damned yourself for me?” he asked through shallow gasps for air.
Armin smiled like Eren had said something funny. “I always have. I wasn’t going to stop just because I died.”
Eren didn’t know if he’d ever deserved him, but Armin’s smile was reassuring enough that he could pretend for now.
There was a chance this was still some big elaborate plot—that this Armin could just be a scary good mimic. But he decided that he would deal with that if it came to it.
As far as he could tell, this was his best friend.
“Hey, Armin?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”