Work Text:
Armin Arlert can't breathe.
The sensation is more familiar than it has any right to be. It seems, life thus far has offered him ample opportunity to choke on his own tears, snot, or, when nothing would come out anymore, just the stale, dusty air of Trost in ruins. There is also that one time that okapi Titan shoved its tongue down his mouth. What was up with that? He's never given it a second thought all these years. Until now.
The feeling of human skin against his throat is new, though. His neck is a lot more sensitive than he thought, able to sense each spot where Annie's fingers dig in individually. Her thumbs assault his trachea while her middle and index fingers constrict the throbbing arteries below his ears.
She isn't trying to kill him, he doesn't think. This is more of an elaborate mental breakdown. His vision's too fuzzy to make out anything besides the blonde silhouette straddling him. If he squints, it reminds him of when she removed his hood as the Female Titan. He imagines Annie's sobbing, screaming. But all he can really hear is his heart pounding in his ears, begging for a moment's relief.
She probably isn't trying to kill him, because she more than has the strength necessary to absolutely crush his windpipe. It's quite nice of Annie that she's not doing that, but… Armin feels too lightheaded and he can't tell if it's from the restricted blood flow or the fact that this lungs are burning like he's inhaled ash.
Time is passing like molasses, but judging from the fact that he hasn't passed out yet, Armin assumes a generous one minute of asphyxiation.
It probably wasn't the right call to let Annie know he can hear Bertholdt's voice. Not just his voice, his… being. It has come to reside within him. Made itself a part of him. Not whole, but not separate, either.
Maybe that's why he hasn’t been fighting back. Between the two of them, they have already died twice. He lays limp, almost relaxed with his hands beside his head.
Annie's arms are getting tired. No, not her arms, the rest of her body. She'd been using her weight to press down on his neck.
Armin can’t remember why Annie's so upset. He could probably figure it out with a little more oxygen in his brain. Maybe… Yeah, that has to be it. Right now he can't think or talk. Both of his strengths have been countered. Why doesn't Annie want him doing either of those things?
The thought slips away, as to be expected. He nearly starts over from the beginning, again, – again? – but Annie's thumb slips, her fist slamming into the wood floor at an odd, painful angle. His vision snaps back into place for a brief second, enough to see a face morphed with agony, tears trickling down her chin onto him. The middle of a sentence.
"– and I can't go back – "
His abused flesh desperately tries to right itself. Then the blackness closes in once more as Annie squeezes her hands together. It doesn't matter. The half-breath he takes is enough for the nerves in his arms to fire and begin a motion. Any motion. Armin's hands catch on her back and, with what strength remains, yanks his hurting friend down into a hug.
She stops moving, like it killed her. A deafening "LET GO!" blows past the water in his ears. He doesn't. He simply doesn't have the strength to move his body at all.
Annie's fingers loosen and slip down by his shoulders in defeat.
"Why couldn't you stay dead, you self-righteous idiot?" comes a mutter. "I was captured, Marcel was dead, why did you go through with it?! Why – " she chokes on her tears, "Why didn't you just… Run away…?"
Armin feels a warmth wash over him. It's familiar. It's foreign. It's his. It's theirs.
"For… " their combined words come out hoarse, like Armin's throat is a rusty gutter in a windstorm. "You"
Annie quiets down and goes limp. The four corners of the ceiling slowly blink back into frame. Small, cozy shared bedroom. In a list of most comfortable places to be choked half to death, it ranks quite high. It's quiet outside. Both on the street and within the building. If someone's here with them, they’re probably holding their breath listening to the commotion.
Gathering a fistful of strength, Armin moves both of them to their sides. The carpet is uncomfortable. She should have choked him on the bed instead, he thinks. That other presence is briefly unhappy with him, before returning to the vague fog it exists as.
Oh. Did she do it so she could speak with him? With Bertholdt? … Had Armin actually made that realization beforehand? How many times had his mind run in circles while… Oh. Had they been talking the whole time?
Annie moves, only so she can thread an arm around him. The carpet is still uncomfortable. He wills his body to move, but as soon as he lifts his head the world starts spinning. He wistfully eyes the bed in the corner. It's like it's on the other side of the sea.
Annie must realize, because she helps prop him up. He's so out of it that the journey there is akin to a slideshow. Before he knows it he's lying down again. The mattress raises beside him, leaving him on his own. A glass clinks. Not long after, the sheets shift again and something cold is brought to his lips.
"Drink"
He does, nearly forgetting to swallow. The water leaves a wet trail as it passes down his arid throat.
Annie takes the glass away and sits at the edge, watching him. How his chest rises and falls. She's always been bad at keeping eye contact. He reaches out a hand. After traveling across a snowy tundra, it makes landfall atop her fingers. Her eyes stare into dead air, but it's apparent she's focusing on a different part of her vision. It's an interesting skill of hers. There are so many fascinating things about her. He lists them all off in his head. Another presence makes a different, but parallel list in tandem, their voices harmonizing whenever they land on the same trait by accident.
Annie looks in his eyes. He loves her. They love her.
"Don't give me that look after all this, Arlert" she says, sternly.
And he laughs a hoarse laugh. She's flustered by it, turns her head away.
"Do it again, I dare you" it comes out and her cheeks turn beet red in response.
She crosses her arms, leaving Armin’s hand absent. "I hate you"
"I love you, too"
It takes a bit to coax her into bed. It's dark outside, an indiscernible hour. By the time he manages it, it's impossible to peel her from him. Armin has never seen her like this. There was always his part of the bed and then there was hers. But tonight, it’s just their bed.
A strange image fades into his vision as he lingers on the verge of sleep. It's upside-down, from the perspective of someone lying on a bed. Looking down on him are Annie, Reiner and two other kids. He recognizes their Eldian armbands. All of them smiling. Annie’s looking away, trying to seem uninterested. The rest of them seem contemplative of the day’s weather… He feels an urge to sleep in a strange position.
Before long, both him, Annie and that presence drift off peacefully.