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Armin’s feet are starting to hurt, yet he cannot back down now. It’s not like him to walk out in the middle of a dance, and, with Mikasa by his side, he’s pretty sure she won’t allow it anyway. Besides, he cannot afford getting out before the elders, for it would give him a terrible reputation, and none of them seem anywhere near tired. He guesses he has an excuse, what with having worked the land all day.
Yet nobody forced him to come here in the first place.
The dance has been going on for what feels like forever now, yet the singer seems just as lively as when she first started. She even joined in the dance, leading it, her voice growing louder even.
Mikasa clams his hand tighter. When he steals a glance at her, he can’t help but smile. She’s holding on good, but there’s a frown on her face, a beam of sweat rolling down her temple. Her hair is stuck to her forehead, and her cheeks flushed. Yet she doesn’t slow down, her black skirt swaying around her when she twirls, the poppy flowers embroidered on its front in even columns blurring together.
She leans her face closer. “Have you seen Eren?” she asks, her voice barely audible over the music.
Armin shakes his head, furrowing his brows. Eren walked out of the dance a while ago, saying he’d be right back, and simply never returned.
Mikasa mutters something he doesn’t quite catch. Armin snaps his head around, squinting his eyes through the dark, slowly moving his gaze through the crowd. He searches for his friend through the sea of people, with little to no success. It’s not like he can look for a certain pattern either, for Eren chose tonight to wear his most generic shirt– white, with simple red poppy flowers sewn around the collar and the hems of his sleeves.
With how he knows Eren, he’s probably off somewhere getting drunk.
His eyes accidentally lock on a pair of icy blue ones that pierce right through him. His breath hitches, his face warming up– she must have been staring. How else would he have found her eyes in such a crowd?
Her eyes widen as if she’d just been caught in the act, yet she lets them linger. They glisten in the dark, as if she’d found what she was looking for.
When the dance finally comes to an end, she’s the first to leave, averting her eyes. He misses their depth immediately. He’s pretty sure a smile passes her lips before she turns around, her hair swaying behind her as she leaves.
Armin hurries to go after her, when someone grabs his arm. He turns around, frowning at the holdback, only to be met by Mikasa’s worried face.
“Will you look for him?” she asks.
Armin hesitates. He wipes his head back, but any trace of Annie is now gone. He nods at his friend, hastily promising that he will, and she presses her lips together as if she doubted him, but ultimately lets go of his arm. He offers her a haste smile, before breaking into a sprint in the general direction she went in.
There’s only the scent of her, sweet and flowery, and if he really tries he can make out her form through the crowd, way ahead of him. She moves swiftly through the people, almost as if they parted for her specifically, whereas he has to make room for himself. And then she vanishes into the barn at the far end of the yard, near the fence, where the light doesn’t reach.
Armin stops a few feet from the entrance, catching his breath. He clutches his fist over his hammering heart, looks around for curious eyes– he would hate to blow this, and he knows how fast word goes around. He cannot risk this reaching the mayor’s ears.
Luckily, he finds none.
He takes a deep breath in, silently apologizing to Mikasa for betraying her hopes, before stepping into the barn.
“It took you a minute,” comes her voice, barely above a whisper.
He cannot see her, yet he can almost hear the smile in it.
Armin chuckles, cautiously closing the door behind him. “I figured you liked the wait.”
She hums, but doesn’t step out of the shadows just yet. Armin squints through the dark, trying to make her out. If only he could catch one glimpse of her, to calm his heart down.
“Although I must admit, for someone who was so unapologetically staring only a minute ago, you sure are shy to show yourself.”
Her laugh is sweet, yet low, as if she were trying to hide it. There is the low strike of a match, and then the flicker of a candle flame illuminates her face. His breath catches when she steps closer, stopping a few steps away from him. Close enough for him to feel the warmth of her candle, yet just out of reach.
“Don’t act like you weren’t searching for me yourself, Mister Arlert.”
His face warms, yet he finds himself unable to speak. Not that he could form any coherent words in her presence, not when she looks this breath-taking. The precarious light of the candle does her no justice, and yet he finds himself wondering if maybe it acts as some sort of protection for him. Maybe God knew he couldn’t withstand her beauty.
A smile blooms on her lips then. She tilts her head to the side, her hair swaying with the movement, cascading over her shoulder. He dares glide his eyes down, aware that he could not hold her eye. He lets his eyes travel down, over the fabric of her dress. It hugs her frame nicely, yellow flowers adorning her chest and bell sleeves in rich patterns, then clings to her waist, restricted by a rather simple black girdle, with only a few red buds scattered around it. It then flows into a black skirt, with both of the flowers embroidered on it in complementing patterns.
Armin dares take a step closer, and she takes a step back. He raises his eyes in protest, only to be met with her teasing smile. Her eyes sparkle with something he does not find a name for.
“Perhaps I was looking for you, Miss Le–” but he stops himself, the man’s name on the tip of his tongue. Her smile only falters for a second, before he finds his footing again. “My lady.”
Annie crooks an eyebrow. “My lady?”
His heart beats so fast he fears it might break his chest any time now, only to find a new home in the palm of her hand. “But so were you. And how cruel are you, to taunt me like this and yet deny me your touch.”
Annie’s face softens. “Am I now?”
Armin takes a step closer. She doesn’t shy away this time.
“You are,” he nods.
One more step and he’s standing face to face with her. She holds his gaze, searching his eyes as if trying to read his mind. For a moment he thinks she does, for a tinge of longing flashes her face.
He reaches for her arm, and she doesn’t draw away. If anything, she seems to melt under his touch, stepping one step closer, so much so that their breaths mingle together. Annie cups his cheek in her palm, gently caressing his complexion with her thumb.
“I must make up for my cruelty then,” she mutters, her eyes travelling down to his lips.
Armin swallows, awfully hard, trying to push down his nerves. He’s been away from her for so long he’s forgotten how gentle her touch is. Annie lowers the candle, careful not to burn his blouse– his father’s blouse, really, an old little thing with blue rectangles around the hems. Her eyes flicker back up to his, and for a moment he allows himself to get lost in the blue of them. His other hand finds its way to her waist, just above the girdle, and for a second he could almost swear that her breath hitches.
He’s not sure who closes the distance between them. But next thing he knows, her lips are on his, as soft and sweet as he remembers them. He sighs against them, and Annie smiles, for a moment drawing away. But it doesn’t last long, for he soon finds them again.
His arms fully encircle her waist, bringing her closer, closer, closer , until there’s barely any space left between them, until his body melts into hers, his lips never living hers. Her hand falls to his shoulder, firmly settling there, and she kisses him with just as much fervour. It feels like coming home, having her so close after so long.
But then she yelps, stumbling on her feet, losing her balance. She violently parts from him, her fingers fisting into his shirt with so much force he feels her nails through the fabric, scratching his skin. Her eyes widen, and Armin winches in anticipation, the candle flashing dangerously close to his ear.
He catches her hand just in time. He secures it in the air, his fingers firmly wrapping around her wrist. His other hand squeezes her side, keeping her from falling, eliciting a little gasp from her. He breaks her fall, but he doesn’t hurry to move away.
Annie looks up at him with wide eyes, her chest heaving, her lips slightly parted. Even in the precarious light of the candle, he can see them glisten, can see the flush spreading on her complexion. His face warms at their proximity– how ironic, how much he’s wanted her closer just a moment ago and now he’s close to melting at her warmth.
“I got you,” he mutters as he helps her righten up.
Her fingers free his shirt and she drops her hand. She averts her gaze, fixing it somewhere near their feet, not meeting his eyes. She starts playing with the skin around her thumb, nibbing at it with her nail, and her eyes narrow. He’s noticed she tends to do that when she’s nervous.
Armin takes her hand in between his own, gently parting her index finger from her thumb. He runs his thumb against her knuckles, then across her palm. When she parts her lips, he can anticipate the words before they even fully form on the tip of her tongue.
“We should–”
“Don’t.”
She presses her lips together, squeezing her eyes closed. Armin’s hands squeeze hers. His heart aches in his chest, tears open at the mere thought that they’d have to part.
“We might be discovered,” Annie whispers, her voice low, as if afraid to even speak the thought into existence.
Armin sighs. He shakes his head, as if that would be enough to shake away the possibility.
He’s painfully aware of how dangerous this is. He knows what her father would do to the both of them if word got out, or, worse, if he discovered them himself. And yet he cannot stand the thought of parting from her.
He brushes the hair out of her forehead, then slowly drags his knuckles against her skin until he reaches her chin, and tilts her head up until her eyes meet his. They’re full of storms, as they often are when she thinks he’s not paying attention.
He forces on a smile.
“Who’s going to discover us here, my lady?” Annie’s eyes widen, and her face softens at her new title. “With everything going on outside?”
As if on cue, a new song erupts somewhere outside. There are distant cheers, and if he listens really closely he can pick up the rhythm for the dance.
Armin looks back to Annie, only to find her trying to hide a blush. A smile blooms onto his lips. She steals a glance at him, and flinches when she realises she’s been caught, averting her gaze once again.
Armin chuckles. He takes the candle from her fingers, and her hand falls.
“We’re safe here,” he says.
She hums, burying her face in his shoulder. Her arms slowly wrap around his body, loosely at first, and then she tightens her embrace. Armin sighs, letting his free hand run circles on her back. He places a kiss on the crown of her head before resting his chin in her hair. Then he closes his eyes, letting himself bask in her warmth.
“Call me that again,” she mutters.
Her breath tickles the skin of his neck, bringing a smile on his lips.
“My lady?”
Annie hums. She smiles into his skin, her arms tightening around his torso.
Armin chuckles. “You like that?”
“It sounds pretty on your lips,” she mutters, her voice low.
It makes Armin’s face warm. “I shall keep calling you that, then.”
Annie hums in silent agreement. They fall quiet, letting the buzz outside wash over them. Armin closes his eyes again, letting his hand rest on the small of her back. He holds his breath for a second, listening really closely, and he can almost swear he only hears one heartbeat. As if their hearts were connected, and they beat in the same rhythm.
“I wish we could be out there,” she mutters. “Dancing with the others.”
Armin sighs. He lets himself imagine it for a second. Him and Annie, in the middle of the yard, freely dancing their hearts out. The singer would sing them praises. The other pairs would stop just to admire them. People would cheer for them, and maybe Annie would get shy and bury her face into his neck much like she is now, and he’d laugh and hug her close. And everyone would be watching, and everyone would love them.
A traitor’s spawn and the mayor’s daughter. Joining hands as if history meant nothing.
Armin feels the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat. He opens his eyes. The candle has almost burnt out, so he puts it out. He runs his fingers through Annie’s hair, and she sighs into his neck.
People would be watching, but they would not love them.
They would watch in disgust as a little devil and a young goddess danced amongst them. They would turn their noses up at their little illicit affair.
And if they were lucky, they might stop at the whispers and the ugly looks.
But he cannot bring himself to say any of this to Annie. He wants to, he parts his lips, pushing the words to the tip of his tongue.
But when Annie looks up at him with those bright eyes of hers, a little smile adorning her lips, he cannot bring himself to break her peace like that.
So instead, he pecks her lips.
“We’d make a pretty good pair.”