Work Text:
The floors of the airport were perfectly polished beneath Armin's shoes as he walked towards his gate. The screens flickered overhead with gate numbers and delays, either making people's day or ruining it. Suitcases rolled past him, coffee cups steamed, and voices overlapped and vanished just as quickly.
Every one of them was either leaving something behind or chasing something.
Armin stopped when his gate number appeared.
He was waiting for someone.
Right... Who?
Around him, people walked away from the gates, in the opposite direction he was heading. The sounds of the airport dulled, as if he were wearing noise-proof headphones.
He shook his head and continued walking to the gate.
The lights went out.
The airport was unusually quiet. Not a single breath could be heard. Armin froze, rubbing his eyes. Darkness was thick and absolute, like his eyelids sealed shut.
The floor softened beneath his feet, and he felt himself sinking.
Panic spiked. He quickly backed away, trying to leave this void, until his shoulders collided with something solid.
Someone.
Armin turned around.
It's Eren.
Armin's mouth opened, but nothing came out. The darkness swallowed his words. Eren's face was blurred at the edges, as if Armin wasn't meant to see him clearly.
Eren didn't smile. Didn't speak. Didn't move.
Armin's eyes squinted, desperate to read him. His eyes weren't the familiar turquoise ones.
They're grey. Flat. Drained. As if something sucked the colour out of them and left the rest behind.
Eren—
"Armin, wake up."
Armin jolted upright, breath hitching painfully at his throat. Mikasa stood beside his bed, holding a laundry basket at her side. Her brows furrowed in concern.
"You were saying Eren's name," she said quietly. "In your sleep."
Armin frowned slightly, feeling a sharp pain in his temples. The dream clung to him, heavy and disorienting.
"It's nothing," he mumbled.
Mikasa wasn't convinced but didn't push him further. "Get up. I made breakfast."
She walked out of Armin's room, leaving him with his foggy mind and thoughts.
Armin lay back, staring at the ceiling. He felt a dull ache spread in his chest, unfamiliar yet so known.
He ignored it. Like he ignored everything else that hurt.
The wind messed up Armin's fringe, flipping through the pages of the book in his hand that was long forgotten. His gaze stayed fixed on the horizon as the sun sank into the sea, painting the water in shades of pink and orange.
The same thoughts circled his mind—the ones he had buried years ago.
Why did Eren leave us?
Why didn't I notice how bad it was getting?
Why couldn't I stop him?
The spark that once lived in Armin's eyes had dimmed ever since Eren's disappearance. He'd never admitted it out loud, but he cried harder than he thought possible when it finally sank in.
Harder than Mikasa.
Eren had left everything behind. His clothes. His phone. His room, untouched. Some of the fabric still carried a familiar scent—the one Armin remembered from sleepless nights years ago, when nightmares drove him across the hall to Eren's bed.
Patchouli.
Armin still sprayed Eren's perfume—Michael by Michael Kors—onto his sweater before leaving the house. Just enough to make it linger. Just enough to pretend Eren hadn't vanished entirely.
People noticed. Some found it weird. A few told him outright that Eren was probably dead.
Armin never listened.
He refused to believe it unless he was standing in front of a grave.
He and Mikasa told themselves Eren had gone abroad. Somewhere far, somewhere quiet. Trying to find himself.
"He needed a break," Armin murmured. "Just... not this long."
He stood up, brushing the sand from his hands, and left the conch shell Eren had given him resting where it belonged.
"Mikasa, I got the things you asked for."
Armin set the grocery bags down on the counter. Three years ago, he wouldn't have managed with this many in one hand.
Time had changed him. Shorter hair. Broader shoulders. Strength Eren had never seen.
The thought tightened something in his chest.
He started unpacking. Then froze.
That scent.
Michael Kors.
He wasn't mistaken. He couldn't be mistaken.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
"No way," he whispered.
"Eren...?"
The can of beans slipped from his hand and clattered onto the counter. Armin barely noticed and was already moving, steps quickening toward his room.
The closer he got, the stronger the scent became. His pulse quickened. He didn't know whether to cry or scream at Eren for leaving.
"Eren!"
He swung the door open.
Nothing.
The room was empty. Silent. Exactly as he'd left it.
The hope drained from his body all at once, leaving him lightheaded.
He swallowed hard. Was he imagining things now?
His gaze averted to the desk.
The conch shell sat there, catching the light.
Armin's breath stuttered.
That's not possible.
"Armin?" Mikasa's voice snapped Armin out of his haze. She stood in the doorway, a towel around her shoulders, hair damp from the shower. "You're back already."
"I..." Armin paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I got the groceries."
She studied him, eyes sharp but gentle all at once.
"You don't look okay."
"I'm fine." He said automatically and darted his gaze.
Mikasa didn't argue. "Dinner will be ready soon."
He sank onto the couch and closed his eyes.
"Eren... please..."
His voice cracked in his sleep, words barely audible.
Mikasa shook him gently. "Armin."
"Ere—!" He gasped awake.
"There it is again," she said softly. "You keep calling him."
Armin stared at the dining table. Three plates. Three chairs.
One empty.
"I... I don't know what's wrong," Armin whispered, his voice wavering. "He's in my dreams. He never talks nor moves. He just... watches."
Mikasa's eyes averted to the plates.
Life has been quiet ever since Eren left. Uncomfortably quiet. Armin rubbed his eyes with his palms, feeling tears brimming at their edges. He swallowed the lump in his throat, not wanting to cry. Mikasa sat down next to him, and before he could turn his head to her, she wrapped her arms around him, her warm body against his.
He finally let it out. The breath he’d been holding for days broke loose, and he melted into Mikasa’s arms, shaking with sobs.
She didn’t flinch. She never did. Her arms tightened around him automatically, steady and familiar, like muscle memory.
This wasn’t new to either of them. They had cried like this before, more times than they ever talked about. Different reasons, same silence. Different wounds, same refuge.
00:46
Armin stared at the ceiling after his attempts to fall asleep were futile. The bed was too cold, making him not want to move. He shuddered and pulled the quilt higher up his nose.
It didn't help.
He gave up and stood up. He wore his warm slippers and walked to the closet. A hoodie would help; it always did.
Armin ran his hand over the soft fabric of the hoodie. It was once Eren's favourite; now it's Armin's favourite, solely because he can almost feel the warmth of Eren's body when he wears it.
He smiled slightly; warmth bloomed in his chest—then stopped cold.
A breath brushed the back of his neck.
Armin froze.
He spun around, heart pounding. His hand reached blindly for something—anything.
Nothing.
The room was empty.
Armin was really starting to feel uneasy. He felt like he was going insane, hearing, feeling, seeing, and smelling things that weren't even present.
His shoulders slowly relaxed, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. His head unconsciously turned towards the window, and he stared for a bit too long.
The breeze hit the glass of Armin's window, making it rattle. Trees bent, and their leaves shook as wind blew past them.
Everything seemed normal, but it didn't feel normal.
He finally closed his eyes and counted to ten, then lay back in bed. He wasn't letting his absurd thoughts keep him awake until dawn.
Armin stared out the window, looking at the morning sky with a steaming cup of tea in his hand.
The birds flew in the sky with freedom.
But it never lasts long for them.
They either get eaten by other predators or get captured in a mist net.
It's no different for humans, though.
Mikasa huffed as she turned the burner knob again. The clicking sound snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Is there something wrong?" Armin turned, checking on Mikasa.
"I think we ran out of gas. I forgot to tell Jean about this." She sighed. "I'll go get something from the bakery for us to eat."
"Can you get me a Danish pastry, please?" He turned back to the window.
Mikasa paused but nodded anyway.
Danish pastry—specifically the raspberry one—is Eren's favourite.
Was.
He doesn't even know anymore.
As Mikasa wore her jacket, the door unlocked.
"Jean?" She was surprised. Jean doesn't come to them early in the morning since he's usually at work.
Her eyes drifted down to his hands, noticing a bag of baked goods, a toolbox, and his typical work bag.
"Morning." Jean had a small smile on his face, waiting to get in. "I got some bread and pastries, and I'll fix the gas issue; you didn't run out of it."
"Oh, thanks..." She let him in and took the bag out of his hand.
"Hey, Jean," Armin smiled. "You came to visit early today."
Jean placed his toolbox near the stove and shrugged.
"Because I'll be having a night shift, apparently."
"Oh."
The sounds of Jean fixing their stove filled the room.
His eyes drifted to Mikasa's face, the dark shadows under her eyes, then to Armin—paler than usual—before settling back on the stove.
"Have you two been eating well?" He asked, his voice slightly lower.
"We're surviving." Mikasa shrugged, and Armin just stared at the empty chair.
Jean sighed, as if that answered nothing. He wiped his hands with a towel and straightened.
"You're working late again?" He asked Mikasa.
She nodded, looking away.
"Then make sure you eat," he said, already reaching for his coat.
He paused by the door.
"Both of you."
Armin sat on the cold floor of his room and placed the box gently on the floor as if it were fragile.
It was fragile.
He carefully opened it, a slight smile on his lips.
A slightly crumpled movie ticket. Candy wrappers. Dried poppies.
Letters.
He unfolded one of them. The ink was a bit smudged, the paper rough and old. Yet, this was the handwriting Armin remembered.
Eren's.
"How's competing with idiots abroad? I know you're kicking their asses right now with your nerdy abilities.
Jokes aside, I hope you're safe. I know nothing about the city you're in right now, and I hope it isn't making you restless because I'm not there to put you back to sleep.
Don't forget to get us souvenirs. And hurry up, I'm getting bored here. Mikasa keeps forcing me to help with cooking dinner. Not that I mind, but she's telling me I'm too slow! It's driving me crazy. I don't cook every day, alright!
In other words, I miss you, nerd."
- Eren Jaeger.
"I miss you, too." He placed the letters and noticed a Polaroid photo of him and Eren.
His eyebrows furrowed.
17.12.2023
Just the day before Eren left.
How didn't I notice?
Eren's smile wasn't genuine; his eyes were tired, and his body language was uncomfortable.
How did I not see through my best friend?
"I thought I understood him more than anyone." Armin placed everything back inside the box. "But I don't think I do anymore."
He closed the lid.
It didn't sit right.
He pressed down harder until it clicked shut, then frowned.
One of the letters wasn't aligned the way he remembered leaving it.
"Armin, dinner's ready!" Mikasa called from the dining room.
"Smells good," Armin smiled and sat on his chair.
"So," She picked up a spoon and took a bite from the pasta. "Are you not going to tell me what's going on?"
He paused.
The spoon slipped from his hand, clattering onto his plate.
"What do you mean?" Armin quickly picked up the spoon.
"Your mind is somewhere else. You barely sleep," Mikasa pointed out. "I can keep going."
He sighed and bit the inside of his cheek.
"It's—"
"Don't tell me it's nothing."
"It's Eren..." he mumbled, the food on his plate long forgotten.
"I know."
"What?"
"I know it's Eren," Mikasa said, as if it were the most obvious thing. "I need to know why you're suddenly thinking about him more."
"That's the thing." Armin looked down at his hands. "I... I don't know either."
The room filled with silence. The only noise heard was the rain and wind outside.
"You didn't happen to see him anywhere, did you?" She looked up, her gaze piercing.
"No, no! Obviously not!" He unintentionally stuttered. "If I did, I would've told you."
Another pause.
"I think," Armin's voice cracked through the silence, "I might've always loved him."
The silence that followed wasn't helpful. His face slightly heated up.
"In... a normal way," he added. "Like, emotionally devastating but socially acceptable."
Mikasa looked at him for a long moment.
"Armin," she started, "we knew."
"Sorry?"
He stared back, his mouth slightly ajar in shock.
"Everyone knew," she said, then added in a gentle tone. "You were the last to realise."
The room felt smaller after that.
Not heavier or darker.
Just like... it had received very satisfying confirmation.
"I hate today," Armin muttered.
Mikasa's eyes flicked to the doorway. Instinct, sharp and unwelcome.
"You're safe."
Armin frowned. "That didn't sound reassuring."
"Anyway," He stood up and stretched. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Mikasa." Armin smiled at her.
"Good night," she smiled back.
The apartment settled after Armin went to bed.
Lights stayed on longer than they should have.
Mikasa was pacing in the room, pen in hand, trying to think of a design for her new project, when the knock came.
She stopped pacing and looked up.
Jean was standing in the doorway, coat half on.
"Sorry," he immediately said, like he'd practised it on the way over. "I know it's late."
Mikasa glanced past him, then back at his face. "Did something happen?"
"No. Well. Nothing happened." He placed his coat on the chair. "I almost tripped to my death in the hallway."
That earned him a blink.
He held up a thin folder. "This was on the floor. Nearly killed me."
Mikasa's grip around the pen tightened. "That's mine."
"Figured; it has your name on it." He didn't step closer, didn't lean. "It slid out from under the door. I didn't open it."
She hesitated but took it from him anyway. The folder was warm, like he'd been holding it longer than necessary.
"...Thanks," she muttered.
Silence settled again, heavier in the small space between them.
Jean's eyes drifted past her—unfinished sketches on the table, notes layered over notes, the kind that came from thinking too much and sleeping too little.
"You're still working," he said.
"I can't focus," Mikasa replied. "So I keep trying anyway."
He huffed a quiet laugh. "Bold strategy."
She almost smiled. Almost.
Jean shifted, clearly preparing to leave. But then stopped himself. Mikasa didn't look up.
"Your designs..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "They're not loud. But they're deliberate. You leave space where other people would panic and fill it."
Her breath caught before she could catch it.
"That's not a bad thing," he added quickly. "It's—actually hard to do."
Mikasa's eyes lowered. "Most people don't notice."
"Most people don't look." Jean shrugged.
The words landed heavier than he intended.
She pressed the folder to her chest, grounding herself. Compliments still felt like standing too close to an edge.
"...Good night, Jean."
He nodded, already having stepped back. "Good night, Mikasa."
When the door closed, the apartment didn't settle again.
It stayed awake with her.
Armin splashed cold water on his face, chasing away the last of his sleep. He squeezed a pea-sized amount of toothpaste onto his toothbrush.
The bathroom felt too quiet.
Hands settled on his hips.
Warmth pressed against his back, close enough that he froze.
The toothbrush slipped from his fingers, rattling into the sink.
"Eren...?" Armin stared into his reflection, afraid to blink.
Lips brushed the curve of his neck, soft and familiar in a way that made his chest tighten.
"What are you—? When did you—" He panted.
"I came back to see you." Eren murmured. "Only you."
The words sank deeper than the touch.
Eren's hands moved with intention, slow enough that Armin had time to panic, to want, and to fail at stopping either. They trailed down to Armin's erection, rubbing softly.
"Eren, no..." The protest came out weaker than he meant it to.
"Why not?"
Armin swallowed. "I can't—" His voice wavered. "I can't see you."
He gasped awake, heart pounding, sheets twisted around him.
His body betrayed him immediately, his pants uncomfortably tight.
Armin groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "What was that...?"
Heat lingered where it shouldn't have.
The bed felt suffocating—uncomfortably warm, making Armin push himself up too fast, chest tight, pulse loud in his ears.
He hesitated before opening the bathroom's door.
Just for a second.
As if Eren might still be there.
Mikasa's fingers typed restlessly on the keyboard, eyes focused on the screen of her laptop.
Armin stopped short when he entered the kitchen.
A cup sat on the table. Still steaming.
He frowned, then smiled faintly. "Hey—thanks," he said, reaching for it. "You remembered."
Mikasa hummed in response, eyes still on her laptop. "Mm."
He took a sip.
Perfect.
Just how he liked it.
Something warm loosened in his chest.
The clock ticked.
Mikasa's fingers stilled on the keyboard.
"...Wait," she said.
Armin looked up. "Hm?"
"I didn't make that."
The room went quiet. Very quiet.
"I thought you—" he started, then stopped.
Mikasa slowly stood, eyes never leaving the cup in Armin's hands.
"What kind is it?" She asked.
"The one from the place near the station. No sugar, extra milk."
She stared at it.
"I haven't been there in weeks."
Neither of them moved. The drink sat between them, undeniable.
Mikasa grabbed the cup from him, placing it in the sink.
After a few minutes of silence, Armin broke it.
"It was probably Jean who got it," he said, trying to brush it off.
Mikasa stayed silent.
"Is something wrong?" Jean placed the grocery bags on the floor, drinks in the other hand.
Mikasa's heart skipped a beat. She ignored it.
"Hey, Jean." Armin turned quickly. "Uh—nothing. Just..."
His eyes drifted to the drinks in Jean's hand.
"Ah, I got us drinks on my way here." Jean said, hoping he didn't sound too clingy. "Black coffee for Mikasa, a flat white, no sugar, extra milk for you."
Armin and Mikasa gave each other a look. So Jean didn't get Armin that drink.
"Did I come at a wrong time?"
"No, no! Um—we're just surprised." Armin fumbled with his words.
"Thanks, Jean." Mikasa took the drinks from Jean's hand, their eyes lingering longer than usual.
Armin's eyes flicked between the both of them, forcing himself to not giggle.
Mikasa turned and placed the drinks on the table, avoiding any more contact with Jean.
Jean cleared his throat and sat down next to Mikasa, with Armin sitting in front of him.
"Working a night shift again, Jean?" Armin broke the silence. Because if it continued like that, he'd overthink and spiral.
Jean's eyes lingered on the new sketches Mikasa had on the table. The hard work is showing in how the designs perfectly fit the theme. He swiftly averted his gaze, taking a sip from his espresso.
Armin coughed slightly.
"Do you have a night shift again, Jean?" He asked again.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I've got a night shift." Jean sighed. "Can't really catch a break in this company."
"Mhm..."
Jean noticed Armin's drink on the table.
Untouched and cold.
He decided not to comment on it. People forget drinks all the time.
Sasha Braus
"You all are invited to my party celebrating opening my long-awaited restaurant, "Sasha's"! Every single one of you better come. Tonight at 8pm."
Jean Kirstein
"Come on, man. I have a night shift."
Sasha Braus
"Um, cancel it??"
Jean Kirstein
"It's a shift. Not an appointment, Sasha."
Connie Springer
"I wouldn't miss it if I were you, Jeanboy."
Jean Kirstein
"Alright, Springer. I'll try to finish my work early."
Armin chuckled at the messages in the group chat.
They never changed. In a good way.
Sasha Braus
"Armin, you're free, right?!"
Armin Arlert
"Yeah, I'll be there! I'll make sure Mikasa joins us, too. :)"
If only Eren were still here, he'd look forward to going to the party. Seeing his...
Best friend?
First love?
First heartbreak?
First... crush?
Right.
He sighed and got up from the couch, making his way to Mikasa's room.
"Most people don't look."
Mikasa stared at her redrawn design.
"Your designs... they're not loud. But they're deliberate. You leave space where other people would panic and fill it."
Her hand reached for the folder, placing the redrawn sketch inside.
A knock came on her door, but she didn't reply.
Mikasa just stared out the window.
"Mikasa?" Armin placed a hand on her shoulder.
She flinched and turned her seat around.
"When did you get in?"
"Like... five minutes ago." Armin rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyways, Sasha's hosting a party for her restaurant's opening and all. We should go."
"Sure." Mikasa's eyes wandered to the folder again. Her hand slightly tightened around the pen.
Armin noticed, yet didn't comment on it.
20:26
Armin and Mikasa arrived at the party, already getting greeted by loud music and tipsy people.
"Mikasa, Armin!" Sasha stumbled as she ran over to them.
She pulled them into a tight hug, suffocating the both of them.
"Sasha, we can't breathe." Mikasa patted Sasha's back.
"I missed you guys!" She pulled back.
Armin smiled, "We missed you, too, Sasha!"
She grabbed their hands, dragging them to where Connie, Reiner, Annie, Bertholdt and the others were sitting.
"Hey everyone," Armin smiled and sat down.
Mikasa grabbed a drink and sat next to him.
The songs were nostalgic. A playlist the friends used to listen to back in school days.
"So, are you two still single?" Reiner asked, chugging his beer.
Armin almost choked on his water.
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Come on, Reiner. We all know Armin's still stuck on—" Connie got cut off by a jab in his stomach, making him go into a coughing fit.
Was Armin really that obvious?
"Ignore him." Annie took a sip from her root beer. "Life isn't all about dating, anyway."
"It isn't. But it's a blessing." Reiner shrugged.
"Until you get dumped."
"Right."
Armin chuckled and watched as his friends spoke about different topics in a span of one second.
He turned to see Mikasa staring at the door, her mind somewhere else. Armin blamed it on work and her new project.
Armin's hands trembled slightly, though he didn't understand why.
The bass from the music thumped through the floorboards. Something at the edge of his vision—the door swinging just a little too slowly—made his heart beat faster.
His clothes felt too warm, his palms sweating. His breathing shallowed. Armin's stomach twisted. He needed air. Just air.
Excusing himself, he moved towards the exit, each step feeling like it carried the weight of years he hadn't admitted to anyone—let alone himself.
The cold night air seemed to calm him in a strange way; he inhaled deeply. He zipped up his jacket, stuffing his hands into the pockets, and let the alley's quiet wash over him.
His phone vibrated, making him fumble to fish it out.
Before he could register anything, a firm hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him backwards. Another hand clamped over his mouth.
Armin's dagger raised instantly, aiming at the man's chest—but his fingers faltered.
A presence at his back. Warm breath brushed his ear.
Then the scent hit him.
Patchouli.
Michael by Michael Kors.
His eyes widened as recognition crashed into him, disorienting and sudden. The dagger slipped from his grip, rattling to the ground. His hands fell limply at his sides, powerless against the shock.
Jean opened the door, complaining about work under his breath. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned a few shirts before two of his best friends—Sasha and Connie—jumped to hug him.
"Jeaannn!" Sasha squeezed her arms around his leg, while Connie wrapped his arms around Jean's torso.
"You two are so drunk, oh my God." He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Get up!"
"Yes, sir." They both saluted in unison.
"Idiots."
He walked past them, spotting Mikasa sitting alone, Armin not by her side. One hand swirling her drink, another playing with her short hair.
"Hey, Mikasa." He sat next to her, making sure to keep a respectful distance. "Where's Armin?"
Mikasa snapped out of her thoughts. She didn't answer him instantly but felt her stomach slightly drop.
"Oh, he's... He needed some fresh air." She looked away, sipping her drink.
"I see."
Jean noticed Mikasa's avoidance. He sat in silence for a bit, just staring at the stupid things his friends are doing.
"Mikasa, I—"
"I'll use the restroom." She got up, cutting him off abruptly.
"Alright." He sighed, grabbing a beer from Reiner's hand and chugging it down.
Reiner was too drunk to even care.
Armin turned around, seeing the person he thought he'd never see again.
The hand fell from his mouth.
"Eren...!" Armin's voice trembled.
"Easy there," Eren's voice was flat. "Armin."
His eyebags are dark. Hair longer than Armin remembered. His face not holding a single emotion.
Armin's expression hardened—not because he was angry, but because every version of Eren he'd rehearsed in his head died all at once.
His brows furrowed slightly. His eyes went cold.
Eren's eyes searched Armin's face for something familiar.
Longing. Relief. Anything.
He found nothing. Which was worse.
"You cut your hair." Eren pointed, almost reaching out to touch Armin's hair, but stopping.
"Three years ago." Armin replied. Eren's eyes went downcast.
"Eren," the blonde started. "Why didn't you say goodbye?"
Eren stayed silent.
"Why now?" he asked again.
The question came out sharper than he meant it to.
Eren stepped back, frowning slightly. For the first time, Armin realised Eren had come back expecting to be wanted.
"Armin, listen." Eren stepped forward, his eyes focused on Armin.
Armin's jaw tightened. He stayed nonetheless.
"I need you to not tell anyone I'm here." He said, "Not even Mikasa."
Armin raised a brow. "And why's that?"
"I don't want to drag you into this." He looked away. "Things are still... messy."
"And you're finally... stable." He added.
Armin shook his head, forcing himself out of this daze.
"You don't get to show up like this," he said quietly. "Not after disappearing."
He turned around.
"Armin—"
Eren reached for him without thinking, fingers closing around his wrist. "Wait."
The grip was firm and familiar.
For a second, Armin almost let it happen.
Then he didn't.
He twisted his arm, breaking Eren's hold with a movement so quick it startled them both. Eren's hand dropped, empty.
Eren didn't mean to grab him that hard. He didn't mean to misjudge him.
Armin walked away, leaving Eren alone.
He had imagined this moment ending a hundred different ways.
None of them involved walking away.
Armin entered his room, sending a quick message to Mikasa saying he went back home.
He tossed his phone on the bed, leaning on his desk and looking out the window.
Eren came back.
Eren came back.
He sighed and looked down at his desk.
A crumpled piece of paper.
He picked up the paper. His fingers stilled.
Meet me at the old building nearby.
7p.m. tomorrow.
New number: +44098792778
Armin paused, his grip tightening around the paper.
The ink slanted the same way it always had: too sharp, too deliberate.
He folded the note once, then again, more carefully than necessary.
But how?
He flinched when he heard the door unlock and the sound of feet stumbling.
Armin slowly let the paper down, walking out of his room.
He quietly walked towards the noise.
"You drank too much."
The voice was muffled, but Armin relaxed visibly.
It was Mikasa.
"I didn't drink too much..." Jean groaned when Mikasa basically threw him on the couch.
"Mikasa?" Armin walked in the living room.
Jean's hair was dishevelled, his shirt half unbuttoned, and his tie open. His eyes were half-lidded, and his face was red.
Mikasa's cheeks were a faint shade of pink, her jacket worn inside out.
"You two look..." Armin's eyes drifted between the both of them. "You two look extremely drunk."
"I'm not drunk." Mikasa lied.
Armin chuckled. It was rare to see Mikasa in this state. "I'll make us some coffee."
He walked to the kitchen, starting the coffee machine.
"Your hair is so pretty like that..." Jean mumbled, staring at Mikasa like an idiot in love.
"It's been like that for the past three years." Mikasa sat down next to him.
Dangerously close to him.
Armin held back a laugh, turning his attention to making coffee.
"I know. It just looks better when it's messy." Jean replied, his eyes barely focusing on her eyes.
He got closer, and so did Mikasa.
"Your—"
Jean stopped. His gaze dropped, unfocused, like he had forgotten where the sentence was going.
Mikasa didn't move.
"Coffee's here." Armin shoved the mugs in between them.
Mikasa quickly sat back, grabbing the cup. Her whole body felt like it was burning, but she ignored it.
"Thanks."
Jean cleared his throat, brushing his hair back.
Silence settled in.
Armin's back to pondering about what happened in that alley.
"I don't want to drag you into this." He looked away. "Things are still... messy."
He kept thinking about whether he should meet Eren tomorrow or not. Meeting Eren in an abandoned building, alone.
Just him and Eren.
Feels so wrong, but Armin wants to see his best friend.
Is that all, though?
He sighed, drinking his coffee all in one go. He turned to Jean and Mikasa, noticing how quiet it got.
Well, obviously...
They passed out.
Armin couldn't be bothered to carry Mikasa to her room and fix Jean's position.
So he got a blanket and covered the both of them, staring at them for a second longer than necessary.
If either of them wake up with regrets tomorrow, that's between them and God.
He turned off the lights and went to bed.
Mikasa shifted, her eyes squinting open. She paused, realising she wasn't in her bed.
A necktie lay thrown over the couch.
She pulled the blanket off of her, wincing at the sudden headache. Last night existed only in fragments—heat, noise, someone's voice too close.
"Armin?" She called, but to no avail.
She slowly stood up, leaning on the table for support.
When she finally regained her balance, she walked to Armin's room.
The door was opened, so she peeked inside.
Armin's bed was neatly done, his room tidy. Probably at work then.
Mikasa splashed water on her face. She paused, water dripping down her chin.
Your hair—
Messy.
Her eyes widened, hands tightening around the sink.
A knock came on the door, snapping her out of last night's memories.
She patted her face dry. "Just a minute!" She called out as another knock came.
Mikasa quickly changed into a pair of flared trousers and a black turtleneck, grabbing her coat as she jogged towards the door.
She paused when she saw Jean standing by the door, looking down at his watch.
"Jean," Mikasa placed her coat on the couch. "What's up...?"
Her eyes trailed down Jean's torso, his suit neat and ironed unlike last night's—
She quickly looked away, putting her sketches inside the folder.
"Just came to check up on you," Jean replied. "I mean we were—"
He stopped himself, clearing his throat. Whatever he was about to say didn't survive the light of the morning.
"I'll be late for work, if you'll excuse me." Mikasa wore her coat, wrapping a scarf around herself.
"Yeah, sure." Jean moved away from the doorway.
"Mikasa," Jean stretched his arm out—then stopped, his hand hovering where her wrist had been a second ago.
She turned around. "What is it?"
He held out a sketch. "You forgot this."
Mikasa took the paper from Jean.
Their fingers brushed.
Mikasa flinched first.
Jean stepped back immediately, like he had crossed a line he hadn't meant to approach.
She stuffed it into her folder, pulled on her shoes, and fumbled with the door handle. She shut the door harder than necessary and didn't look back.
19:45
"You're late." Eren's voice cut through the silence in the abandoned building.
"I have work. Some of us do." Armin said.
"Uh," Eren looked up at Armin. "I don't."
Armin rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"
"You didn't tell anyone, right?"
"No, I didn't." Armin looked away.
"That's not what I called you here for." Eren's eyes lowered. "I decided to talk to you first because I can't face the others," he started, "yet."
Armin stared out the dusty, half-broken window. He bit the inside of the cheek. The others' reactions matter more then...
"I trust you." Eren continued. "You understand me more than anyone else."
His eyes finally turned to look at Armin.
Armin froze, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Trust. The word sat wrong, like it belonged to someone else.
His best friend just told him he understands him more than anyone else, yet Armin misunderstood him.
For the first time.
Armin let out a breath through his nose. Not a laugh. Not a sigh, either. Something in between.
"That's not true." He said.
Eren stilled. "What?"
"You keep saying that like it's a fact," Armin replied, turning to face him. "Like it explains everything."
Eren frowned. "Armin—"
"You don't want someone who understands you," he said, calm and unyielding. "You want someone who won't ask you to explain yourself."
Eren's jaw clenched. "That's not—"
"It is," Armin said. "Because if I really understood you, I would've known you were going to leave."
Eren's mouth opened, then closed.
"And I didn't," Armin finished. "So don't put that on me."
It was quiet once again.
"I—" Eren swallowed.
"I didn't know how to come back without ruining everything." He said quietly, avoiding eye contact with Armin.
Armin felt his heart sink.
"You leaving is what ruined—"
He stopped.
Eren's eyes were burning with tears threatening to shed.
"We need some space." Armin stood up.
"Yeah." Eren brushed his bangs out of his face.
Armin walked back, his thoughts looping involuntarily. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and kicked off his shoes.
He glanced to the couch. Jean's necktie is still lying there. He looked away.
"Why are you late?" Mikasa's voice startled him.
"Mikasa—" Armin chuckled nervously. "You're here..."
"Just came back." She replied. "Answer my question, Armin."
"I just had some work I really needed to finish," he said. "No big deal."
Mikasa held his gaze a second too long, then turned away.
Armin knew Mikasa could read through him, but he couldn't tell her about Eren yet.
She went back to the kitchen, chopping some lettuce.
"What are we eating for dinner?" He tried to change the topic.
"Caesar salad."
Armin paused for a second.
"Are you alright?" He said, softer this time.
"I'm fine," she replied almost too quickly.
"Hey, I got the drinks you asked for." Jean entered the kitchen. Mikasa slightly tensed.
"Hey, Jean," Armin smiled and gave him a side hug. He couldn't resist it—Jean is such a good person to hug.
It felt slightly weird this time, though.
"Dinner is already looking good." Jean stood behind Mikasa, his voice lower than necessary.
She cleared her throat, making Jean self-aware. He stepped back, making her move freely in the kitchen.
Armin raised his eyebrows in amusement. So that's what this was becoming.
Mikasa rummaged through the fridge, frowning.
"Are you kidding me? We're out of parmesan cheese." She sighed.
"Really? I thought I got some last week," Jean frowned in confusion.
"It's fine; I'll go get it from the store nearby." Armin was already wearing his jacket.
"I'll go with you." Jean pulled his coat. "Need anything else, Mikasa?" He turned to Mikasa, not realising he's a bit too close to her.
"...No, thanks." She stepped back.
"Alright."
Armin and Jean walked to the store, their pace slow from the cold weather.
"You seem different today," Jean said.
"Do I?" Armin kept feeling goosebumps rise, but it wasn't from the cold.
He turned around, sensing something.
"Yeah," Jean walked, looking ahead. "You look... happier today."
"Oh well," Armin chuckled, not knowing what to say.
I saw Eren.
And he wanted me.
He obviously won't say those things.
"Are you okay?" Jean turned to look at Armin.
"I—" He paused. "Yeah, I'm fine..."
"Good."
They both entered the store, warmth greeting them.
"I'll go get some snacks in case," Armin said. Jean just nodded, too focused on choosing a high-quality Parmesan cheese.
Armin flipped a bag of chips around.
"Come to the building across the street. Five minutes."
Armin turned fast. "Eren, what—"
"Just do what I say." His eyes raked over Armin.
Armin frowned; he hadn't seen Eren like that before.
"Got the cheese." Jean placed the bag on the counter. "Armin got some snacks."
"Thanks." Mikasa took the parmesan cheese block.
Armin was quieter, which was odd. Jean noticed but didn't comment on it.
Jean and Mikasa were distracted with the final touches of dinner as Armin slowly opened the door, leaving the apartment to see Eren.
"What is it now, Eren?" Armin stepped closer to Eren, his frown deepening.
"What was that?"
Walking with Jean, laughing with Jean, hugging Jean—
Armin paused, blinking at Eren.
"Are you jealous or something?" Armin scoffed. "Jean's just helping us out, nothing more."
Eren's face slightly heated up.
"And how did you know I hugged him?" Armin asked slowly.
"In the café."
"Which—"
"Whatever, alright!" He looked away.
"Alright..." Armin brushed it off. "I'll leave then."
Eren nodded, still refusing to look at him at all.
"Where did you go?" Mikasa placed the plates on the table, not looking at Armin.
He took off his jacket and cleared his throat.
"I, um," Armin swallowed. "Annie—I met up with Annie quickly. We had to discuss something about work."
He almost winced at how unbelievable the lie sounded.
Jean looked at Mikasa, then back at Armin.
The three of them knew it was a lie.
"Dinner's ready." Mikasa sat down.
Armin felt awful for lying to her twice in a row. It was clear in the way she was avoiding him that she was upset.
He sat down and ate in silence.
"Since when did Annie—" Jean stopped mid-sentence.
Armin froze, shoulders tensing.
"Never mind."
He felt relieved Jean didn't press further.
Armin washed the dishes as Jean cleaned the table and Mikasa dusted the couch.
Their typical routines.
Except Armin was zoned out thinking about Eren.
His hair was longer. He didn't look like the Eren Armin remembered.
"You've been washing the same plate for 10 minutes." Jean leaned against the table.
"Oh."
Armin rinsed the plate and tried to hide his red face by looking down. It was almost as if Mikasa and Jean knew what Armin was thinking about.
Who Armin was thinking about.
He patted his hands dry and retreated to his room.
He switched the lights on and flinched when he saw a shadow from the corner of his eyes. He quickly turned around.
No one.
Just him.
He stepped towards the bed, picking up the hoodie. Armin smiled softly, pulling it over him. He took a deep breath, memorising the scent.
As if Eren had worn it minutes ago.
His phone vibrated with a text.
Eren Jaeger
"Tomorrow at 6 p.m.
Usual place."
Armin Arlert
"I'm busy at 6."
Eren Jaeger
"You finish work at 4:30. Don't make excuses."
Armin groaned. It's not like he didn't want to see Eren, but he's—
Afraid.
And he doesn't know why.
Wait, how did Eren know Armin finishes—
The floor creaked. Armin flinched.
He shook his head, standing up to get a glass of water.
"Don't forget your tie again." Mikasa took Jean's necktie from last night and stood in front of him.
"Oh right." Jean moved to take the tie, but Mikasa wrapped it around his collar.
He froze, swallowing hard.
She began adjusting it, crossing the ends and then passing the wide end through the front loop.
Jean's eyes focused on Mikasa's hands, on how they moved efficiently. Then her face, how her brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
Then her—
He quickly looked away, tightening the knot of his tie.
Mikasa stepped back, fidgeting with her fingers.
"Thanks," Jean whispered.
He reached out, his hand almost brushing a strand of Mikasa's black hair.
Armin cleared his throat, walking past them into the kitchen.
They both pulled back, Jean already wearing his shoes and Mikasa turning her attention to the folder on the table.
Armin chuckled, hiding it with a cough.
Armin sat in his office, focused on his task. He typed away and searched restlessly.
His finger stilled on the mouse and stopped scrolling.
"STALKING: Something that's trending and romanticised when it shouldn't be."
"Who even romanticises stalking...?" Armin clicked on the site, curiosity getting the best of him.
The screen dimmed as it loaded. For a second, Armin saw his reflection.
And turquoise eyes behind him.
He turned around so fast, almost twisting his neck.
Nothing.
Armin slowly turned back to his work, swallowing.
18:15
Armin walked in the busy streets, his headphones on. Silence felt worse.
His phone buzzed with a notification.
Eren Jaeger
"Where are you?"
He ignored the message, walking into the building.
"I'm literally just 15 minutes late, Eren." Armin sighed, sitting next to where Eren was.
"Still late."
"Come on, we both know you're the one who's always late," Armin said. "I'm only late because the way from work to here is a bit far."
"It's just 30 minutes' distance," Eren argued. "And don't you usually take public transport?"
"Well, yeah, but the weather's nice." Armin looked down out the window. "It feels refreshing to walk outside."
Wait—
Armin turned to Eren, his expression confused.
"How—"
"Your hair looks really good." Eren lifted his hand, stopping short and putting it down. "You looked good with long hair, too. This is just different."
Warmth crept up Armin's neck before he could stop it.
"...Thanks."
"I miss your short hair," Armin mumbled.
"Do you?" Eren asked, pulling his hair into a bun.
"Yeah," Armin turned to look at Eren. "This... doesn't feel like you."
Eren stayed silent.
Armin fiddled with the wire of his headphones.
"What feels like me?" Eren shifted closer to Armin. "Tell me... who even am I?"
Armin's eyes slightly widened.
"You're... my best friend," he whispered. "You're the person who stood up for me whenever I couldn't. You're Eren."
Eren's eyes softened for a second before he looked away.
"Do you hate me for leaving?" He muttered.
Armin's eyes drifted downwards.
"I'll take that as a yes."
"No!" Armin quickly said, his voice louder than he intended to. "I don't hate you for that."
He continued, "you needed space. I accepted that."
I cried for months.
"That day... I regretted not taking you with me." Eren admitted.
Armin froze, his heart pounding in his ears.
He wanted to run away with me?
"Never mind," Eren cleared his throat. "You can go now. Mikasa is probably worried."
"I... Yeah." Armin slowly stood up, glancing at Eren. "See you."
He nodded.
22:46
Armin sat on the couch, his mind elsewhere.
What if he had actually run away with Eren? He would've probably confessed by now. He wouldn't be carrying the ache in his chest like a secret.
"Work has been hectic." Mikasa said, sitting beside him.
Armin didn't respond. He picked at his lower lip without realising it.
Mikasa frowns slightly. "Armin."
He stopped, then nodded. "Yeah?"
"You've been different these past few days."
"Have I?" He straightened, forcing a small laugh.
"Yeah," Mikasa said. "In a good way."
He looked away, his ears burning.
"Who is it?" She bluntly asked.
"Huh—?" His eyes widened, face becoming a darker shade of red. "What do you mean?" He stuttered.
"You're meeting someone," she said gently. "They're making you happy."
"I..." He hesitated.
"It's fine," She placed a hand on his. "You don't need to tell me. I'm just glad you found someone.
"They're lucky to have you."
Armin smiled. "If anything, I'm lucky to have them."
His phone buzzed again.
Eren Jaeger
"Can you come back real quick?"
Armin Arlert
"Sure. :)"
"I'll go for a bit..." Armin stood up, wearing his jacket.
"Don't take long."
He nodded and nearly collided with the door as it opened.
"Oh, you're heading out?" Jean asked, holding a box of ice-cream bites from Sasha's restaurant.
"Yeah, just meeting someone," Armin said quickly. "See you!"
Jean watched him go, brows raised, then turned to Mikasa. "So. How's it going?"
He opened the box and sat beside her, pointedly ignoring the way their thighs brushed.
"Not bad," Mikasa replied, taking one.
“Eren?”
Armin stepped fully into the building, the door clicking shut behind him. The hallway smellt faintly of dust and cold concrete. Too quiet.
“Ere—”
A hand clamped over his mouth.
The sound died in his throat as he was pulled backward.
“Didn’t I tell you,” a voice murmured against his ear, low and sharp, “not to talk to anyone about me?”
Eren.
Armin grabbed his wrist on instinct, heart pounding.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” he said once the hand loosened enough for him to speak. His voice came out harsher than he meant it to. “I just—”
He looked up at Eren, blue eyes flashing with irritation and something darker underneath.
“Are you sta—?”
Eren didn’t let him finish.
His lips crashed into Armin’s, sudden and desperate, knocking the rest of the sentence clean out of existence. The kiss wasn’t careful. It was urgency, Eren pulling him closer as if distance were unbearable.
Armin stilled, shock freezing him in place. He tasted cold air, then Eren—too close, too fast. Eren’s mouth moved against his again, rougher this time, his tongue brushing Armin’s lips insistently until they parted on instinct.
That was what snapped him out of it.
Armin’s eyes flew open. He shoved Eren back, the movement clumsy and panicked. Eren resisted for half a second too long.
Armin sucked in a sharp breath as something split at his lip. He stumbled back, fingers flying to his mouth. When he pulled them away, red stained his skin.
Blood slid down his chin.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Eren stared at him, chest rising and falling, eyes blown wide—not with regret, but with something close to awe. He brought his thumb to his own mouth, tasting the blood left behind, and didn’t seem bothered by it at all.
Armin’s stomach twisted.
His hand fell from his mouth.
Armin turned and left without looking back, body trembling from the cold and the kiss.
And Eren.
"Armin took a while," Mikasa broke the silence between her and Jean.
"Yeah," Jean's eyes betrayed him, lingering on Mikasa's lips longer than they should have.
He noticed.
He couldn't look away this time. Instead, he moved closer.
Mikasa noticed, pulling the scarf higher up her nose. Hiding her own nervousness.
Jean reached out; his fingers brushed the edge of Mikasa's scarf as if by accident.
"You're wearing it wrong," he said quietly.
"I'm not," she replied but didn't move away.
He hooked two fingers into the fabric and tugged—slow, deliberate—loosening it inch by inch.
The scarf slid down her neck.
Mikasa froze. Not pulling back. Just still.
Jean's knuckles grazed her collarbone as he lowered it, his touch light but intentional, like he was testing whether she'd stop him.
She didn't.
Their faces were close now. Too close. Mikasa lifted her chin without thinking, her breath hitching as the cold air kissed the skin the scarf had kept warm until now.
Jean's thumb lingered at her throat.
"For the record," he murmured, eyes flicking to her lips, "I've wanted to do that for a while."
His fingers brushed away Mikasa's bangs, tucking them behind her ear.
Their noses brushed.
The distance between them vanished—almost.
"Jean," Mikasa whispered.
"Mm?" Jean hummed.
Their lips were a strand away from meeting.
The door swung open, startling the both of them.
Armin slammed it shut and then leaned against it, eyes wide, face flushed red, hand still pressed to his mouth.
Mikasa and Jean pulled away instantly.
"Armin, what's wr—"
Before Mikasa could finish, Armin disappeared into his room.
Mikasa's face heated when her eyes met Jean's for a split second.
Jean looked away.
So did Mikasa.
What was that?
What the hell was that?
Armin paced back and forth in his room.
"Eren—" He swallowed. "He kissed me."
The words sounded unreal even whispered.
Armin looked at himself in the mirror, the blood on his bottom lip dried and dark.
Was the kiss genuine?
Or did Eren only kiss Armin because he didn't want to admit—
Right.
Stalking.
Armin sat on his desk, frowning in concentration.
Eren had only come back a few weeks ago, yet he knew Armin's work schedule, where he worked, and who he spent time with.
Could Eren really be stalking him?
No.
Eren wouldn't do that.
...Right?
Armin slowly wore his work clothes, shivering.
From the cold.
Or at least he thought so.
He straightened quickly, finishing his outfit. Armin grabbed his binder and keys and walked into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Mikasa." He placed his mug in the coffee machine.
Mikasa cut fruits in silence, looking out the window. Armin tilted his head, getting a better look at her face.
"For the record,"
"I've wanted to do that for a while."
"Mikasa?"
She flinched, and the knife slipped. A thin line of red welled up at the edge of her finger. She hissed—more annoyance than hurt.
Armin quickly dampened a tissue with water. "Are you okay?" He placed it gently on her finger.
She sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a scratch."
"You aren't normally distracted like that," he pointed out.
Mikasa pulled away, grabbing a plaster from the shelf.
"I'm not distracted."
"Clearly."
Armin added milk to his espresso, stirring. Mikasa sighed and assembled the fruits in containers.
"I'm coming home early from work today," Armin said. "Well, I hope I do. I've just got a few things to edit."
"Alright, be careful." Mikasa adjusted her coat and watch. "I might be late, though. The fashion show is starting soon, and the preparation for it is killing me."
Armin noticed her tension, but it wasn't from work. She was confident her craft.
There's something else going on.
With both of them.
15:45
Armin unlocked the door, yawning as he entered. He barely slept last night.
Last night.
The kiss—
He went to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. Dim light from outside barely reached the living room.
He set the glass down.
The apartment felt occupied.
He frowned, scanning the room. The couch was just a shape at first. Dark. Familiar.
Then it shifted.
Armin froze.
Someone was sitting there.
His breath caught, pulse pounding. Fingers curled into the counter behind him.
"...Eren?"
Eren leaned back on the couch like he'd always belonged there, one arm draped over the backrest, legs crossed at the ankle. He didn't move, just watched Armin with steady turquoise eyes.
"You didn't hear me come in," Eren said quietly, like he expected that.
Armin let out a shaky breath. "God—" He swallowed hard. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting," he said.
Armin inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, Eren was already standing closer. Too close. Armin instinctively stepped back.
Eren didn't look intimidating this time. He looked... like Eren again.
The old Eren.
"Did I go abroad last night?" Eren asked softly.
"Last night—" Armin's throat closed up.
"Yeah. You left as soon as—"
"No, I—" Armin swallowed again. "I got..."
Warmth crept up his neck. "I got shy," he mumbled.
Silence.
Eren chuckled softly.
Armin's eyes widened as he looked up at Eren. Eren's eyes slightly squinted as he smiled.
That didn't help Armin whatsoever.
He just got redder and redder.
Eren laughed—for the first time in years. And Armin was the reason.
"I'm sorry," Eren said anyway. "I couldn't control myself. I didn't even ask if you were comfortable—"
Armin grabbed Eren's hoodie and pulled him into a kiss.
This time it was gentle—a stark contrast from Eren's messy kiss last night.
Armin pulled away.
Eren stared. He hadn't expected Armin to have the courage.
"You should probably leave—Mikasa will be back soon!" Armin pushed him towards the door.
Eren turned back around, his back against the door. "No, she won't be back until 6 p.m."
"5 p.m., actually, but—" Armin's protests were cut by Eren placing soft kisses on his lips. "She said she'd be late, so yeah, 6—"
Armin stiffened. "How did you know Mikasa would be back at six?" He slowly pushed Eren back, forcing him to meet his gaze.
Eren shrugged. "Wild guess." Then he leaned in, kissing Armin's neck.
"Eren..." Armin gasped. "We need to talk," he panted. "You can't just—"
"Are you telling me you're not enjoying this right now?" Eren murmured.
Armin stayed silent. His cheeks burned.
Eren—satisfied—pulled away, lips curved in a slight smile.
"Alright," He said, stepping back just enough to leave a sliver of space. "Let's talk."
Armin sighed. "Why did you do that last night?"
Eren looked away.
"Why did you kiss me last night, Eren?" Armin pressed.
"I told you I couldn't control myself," he said softly, still avoiding Armin's eyes.
"That doesn't explain anything." Armin frowned.
Eren's eyes drifted to Armin's. "I... I did it because—"
He bit the inside of his cheek. "I did it because I want you. In every way possible."
Armin blinked, words failing him. His chest tightened, and heat spread across his face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so exposed.
"You... you mean it?" he whispered, voice barely audible.
Eren nodded, stepping a fraction closer. His eyes didn't waver from Armin's. "I've wanted to tell you for a long time. I just... didn't have the courage."
Armin's hands clenched at his sides. "But why now? After everything?"
"Because I couldn't stop thinking about you," Eren admitted, his voice low, almost cracking. "I never did, actually."
Armin's mind raced. The memory of the kiss, the look in those turquoise eyes... it all hit him at once.
He stepped closer, hesitant. "I've wanted this too," he confessed, voice trembling. "I didn't think you felt the same."
Eren smiled—genuinely. The first real smile Armin had seen in weeks. "I do," he said softly. "More than I can explain."
Armin's heart staggered. The fear, the anxiety, all the questions about Eren stalking him—it all blurred for a moment. He reached out, fingers brushing against Eren's cheek.
Eren leaned into the touch, closing the distance just enough for their foreheads to touch.
"Then I guess..." Armin trailed off, lips parting slightly.
Eren smiled, a bit teasing this time. "Guess what?"
Armin's blue eyes flicked up. "Guess... we'll fix last night?"
Eren chuckled. "Yeah," he got closer. "We'll fix last night."
The space between them vanished. This time it wasn't messy; it wasn't panicked. It was slow and passionate.
When they finally pulled back, both of them were flushed, grinning.
"This is... better than I imagined," Armin admitted, voice breathless.
"Then imagine what comes next," Eren murmured, getting closer.
His hand went under Armin's sweater, feeling the warm skin of his.
Eren felt his face heat up when he felt Armin's abs. He couldn't stop the thought before it spiralled.
His eyes drifted up, heavy-lidded, slow—like they were weighing Armin against some unspoken desire. Heat lingered in the gaze, a teasing pull that made it impossible to look away.
"Eren..." Armin almost moaned.
"Let's go to my room." He whispered.
Eren smiled smugly, like he was waiting for this moment.
Armin's hand trailed down Eren's shoulder, holding his hand and pulling him through the hallway to his room.
Eren pushed Armin against the mattress, their bodies burning against each other. Armin moaned when he felt Eren's erection against his own. Eren wasn't quiet about it either.
Until they both froze.
The door faintly unlocked.
"Shit," Armin pushed Eren off of him. "Quick, hide—Mikasa's here!"
Eren looked around. "Where the hell—"
"Figure it out yourself!" Armin whisper-screamed and adjusted his pants.
He opened the door and walked into the living room.
"You need to take care of yourself more, Mikasa." Jean's voice cut through the hallway.
"I'm fine, Jean." Mikasa placed her bag on the couch and pinched her temples.
"No, you clearly are not." He pressed, stepping closer. "You look pale. Did you eat—"
"Jean, I need some time alone." She said quietly, avoiding his gaze.
He stepped back, hands clenching at his side. "Alright."
He slipped on his shoes and left, leaving Mikasa alone.
Her heart lurched.
Armin watched the whole thing. It all clicked.
Mikasa's distracted because of Jean.
And now she's keeping him at arm's length.
"Hey." Armin walked closer to Mikasa.
Mikasa didn't look at Armin either. He immediately understood.
"Want a hug?" Armin opened his arms wide, smiling softly.
Mikasa's expression softened, and she wrapped her arms around him.
"You sprayed a lot of that perfume today," Mikasa mumbled against Armin's skin.
He tensed.
He didn't use that perfume.
He chuckled softly. "Sorry."
She pulled back, sighing.
"Maybe a walk alone outside would help?" Armin suggested.
"Yeah," she wrapped the scarf around her, hand lingering longer than necessary.
She shook her head and headed out.
Armin let out a relieved exhale. He walked back to his room.
"Eren—"
The window was opened, wind blowing the curtains.
"Oh my God," Armin looked outside the window. "He's insane..."
22:05
Eren Jaeger
"Can we meet up? I miss you already."
Armin Arlert
"I miss you, too :> I'll be there in a bit."
Armin put his phone on the desk, screen facing down. He never imagined this day would come.
Him and Eren. Meeting in secret.
Dating in secret.
"Mikasa, I'm going out—" he stopped when he saw Mikasa resting her head on the pool of sketches on the table, sleeping.
He smiled softly.
Jean's words were true. She should take care of herself more.
"Finally here," Eren smiled and held the scissors out.
"Yeah." Armin frowned slightly. "What's that for?"
"For you to cut my hair," Eren handed the scissors to Armin. "The way you want it to be."
Armin took it, but he was reluctant. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." He said as he let his hair down.
Armin brushed through the brown hair strands with his fingers. Eren's hair was soft, full and impossible not to touch.
"I was looking forward to you tugging at it, but oh well." Eren teased.
"Eren, what—?!" Armin smacked Eren's shoulder.
"Ouch. You've gotten stronger." Eren mumbled.
Armin exhaled and started cutting Eren's hair.
"There." He smiled.
"There's no mirror here." Eren stood up, grabbing his phone. "I hope you didn't make me look like a clown." He joked.
"Yeah, yeah." Armin rolled his eyes.
"Wait, this actually looks good." Eren played with his hair as he looked at himself through the camera. "I mean, you cut your own hair. Should've seen this coming."
"Eren." Armin stood in front of him.
"Hm?" Eren didn't look up, still distracted by his new look.
"Eren, are you stalking me?"
He froze.
"What—"
"Just admit it." Armin didn't doubt himself this time. "How do you know all these things when you've been absent for years?"
Eren looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I—" he swallowed. "Yeah, I... I did stalk you."
"Still am, actually."
Armin's stomach twisted, but he didn't back away.
"I didn't... I just didn't know how to come up to you after all these years." Eren looked out the window.
Armin swallowed.
Why did he still want Eren? Even after he admitted—
"I'm sorry," Eren whispered.
"I need space." Armin took a step back.
Eren watched as Armin left. He couldn't help but think this is what Armin felt when Eren left for years.
Emptiness.
00:10
Mikasa edited invitation cards on her laptop, eyes focused on the screen.
Jean knocked on the door when he realised Mikasa didn't hear him coming in.
"Why are you still up, Armin?" Mikasa said, still not looking up; thinking it's just Armin.
"Why are you still up, Mikasa?" Jean said.
Mikasa looked up, her face heating up. She quickly turned back to her work.
"Is something wrong?" She asked.
"No," Jean stepped in, placing grocery bags on the counter. "Just went on a late-night grocery shopping trip."
Mikasa sighed and stood up. "Jean, you're doing too much."
His brows furrowed in confusion. "I just bought these because I'll be busy tomorrow morning—"
"Then it's fine," she said, her voice sharper and louder than she meant to. "I can go buy groceries; Armin can go buy groceries."
Jean stepped closer. "I know—"
"Then why are you acting like Armin and I can't do things on our own?" She frowned. "Or is it something else? Are you doing this to get close to—"
"Seriously?" Jean's voice was quieter.
Mikasa paused, realising her words might've sounded too harsh.
She opened her mouth to speak and closed it again.
"Is this how you view me, Mikasa? As a man wanting to take advantage of your feelings?" He stepped closer. His tone wasn't defensive. It was genuine. As if he really wanted Mikasa to answer him.
She swallowed. "I—"
"If that's so, then you should've told me from the beginning." Jean stepped back, making Mikasa already miss the warmth that was radiating from his body.
"You should've told me you were uncomfortable with my presence." He grabbed his keys, already putting his shoes on.
"Jean, wait..." Mikasa's voice wavered. It was too late.
Jean was already gone.
She turned to her side, seeing the grocery bags.
Mikasa unpacked each one of them, her heart sinking at how precise Jean had been. He got exactly what they were running out of.
She frowned slightly.
A white box with a card on top of it.
She picked the card up and untied the bow.
"Happy birthday, Mikasa.
Ever since I learnt your birthday was on the 10th of February, it started being my favourite time of the year.
Even if you wouldn't look my way. Even if our interaction would only be for one second.
I was just glad you were happy and surrounded by the people you love.
I'm grateful I met you, Mikasa. I'm grateful I met you, Armin, and as much as I hate to admit—Eren. (Honourable mention, I guess...)
Anyway, I'm moving to a different city tomorrow morning for work. I just wanted to celebrate your birthday before leaving, so it's the last memory I'd have in this city."
Jean Kirstein
Mikasa's hand trembled slightly. Guilt clung to her. She placed the card aside, opening the box.
Strawberry pound cake.
Her favourite.
She took a spoon and took a bite of it, swallowing it and the lump in her throat together.
Why can't she ever let anyone in this heart of hers?
Armin got up from bed. He hadn't slept at all. He sat on his desk, switching his laptop on.
Working from home sounded better than pretending to function at the office.
Eren Jaeger
"Can we talk, please? Come meet me at 5."
He ignored the message, setting his phone down. He dragged a hand through his hair.
"I just didn't know how to come up to you after all these years."
I still want him. But I can't do this...
He took a deep breath and opted to focus on his work.
Mikasa was also deep into her work.
Two friends pretending like work could drown everything else out.
She sipped her black coffee, eyes drifting to the cake on the table.
"You should've told me you were uncomfortable with my presence."
She placed the mug on the table harder than intended.
05:18 a.m.
Mikasa got up, grabbing her scarf and coat. She slipped on her boots and left, the papers and coffee left untouched.
She called for a taxi, hands trembling.
Mikasa Ackerman
"I'm coming in a bit. Please don't leave until we talk, Jean."
Mikasa waited anxiously for his reply.
But he didn't send anything back.
The taxi dropped her off at Jean's apartment; she was about to get inside when she saw Jean with two suitcases in his hands.
"Jean," Mikasa sighed. She didn't know if it was a relieved sigh or something else.
Jean frowned in confusion. "Mikasa? Is something wrong?" He stopped in front of her.
She stayed quiet, fidgeting with the ends of her scarf. He smiled softly.
"Take your time," he said, loading the car with his luggage anyway.
Mikasa swallowed.
"Don't leave, Jean." She said softly, barely audible.
Jean paused and stepped closer. He didn't say anything, just waited for Mikasa to continue.
"Don't leave." She whispered.
Jean sighed. "I have to. It isn't my choice."
Mikasa looked down, realising her attempts at keeping Jean close to her were futile.
He stepped closer, hesitating before tilting Mikasa's chin up.
"I'll visit," he quietly promised, his hand caressed her cheek gently.
Her cheeks turned into a light shade of pink. She nodded and smiled softly.
Back home, Armin finally got up from his desk to eat breakfast.
He walked to the kitchen, raising a brow when he heard Mikasa unlock the door.
He turned to face her. "You were out?"
She looked away. "I..."
"I went to say goodbye to Jean." She muttered.
Armin blinked.
"Huh?"
Mikasa took her scarf off. "He's moving to another city for work."
"Oh, why am I only hearing this now?" Armin frowned in confusion.
"It's complicated." Mikasa changed the topic, not wanting to talk about how she unintentionally hurt Jean.
"Alright..." Armin didn't press further.
She sat back down, typing on her laptop.
It's been months.
Months since Eren confessed that he stalked Armin.
Months since Jean left.
Silence filled everything else.
Armin ignored all the texts Eren sent, while Mikasa felt like there was something missing in her life.
Armin walked back from work, hands in his pockets.
"Armin." A voice called out to him.
He turned to the side, frowning slightly.
Eren.
He sighed and continued walking.
Eren caught his wrist—then immediately let go, realising he might've crossed a line.
"Armin, please," he pleaded. "Let's talk."
Armin gave up and nodded. "Okay."
Eren's shoulders visibly relaxed.
"So," Armin said flatly. "How do you plan to explain the stalking?" Armin started.
Eren paused. "I... I won't."
Armin raised a brow.
"I screwed up, alright?" Eren stepped closer. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to be brave and talk to you."
Armin felt heat creep up his neck.
"I love you, Armin." Eren leaned closer. "I don't want you to leave me like that..."
Armin never saw Eren in this state ever. Pleading, his brows furrowed, his eyes almost teary.
His voice...
He sounds attractive while pleading.
Armin shook his head.
Focus.
"Armin," Eren's voice was almost whiny.
Armin couldn't focus anymore. He exhaled, defeated by his own heartbeat.
"Come with me." He held Eren's hand, guiding him to his apartment.
They entered the apartment, kicking off their shoes.
"Are we—" Armin pulled Eren into a hug before he could finish.
Eren wrapped his arms around Armin, inhaling his scent. The same scent he was longing for.
"I missed you so much," he whispered against his skin.
"I missed you, too." Armin admitted. "I just needed time."
"I understand." Eren pulled back, smiling softly.
Eren leaned in; their noses brushed.
The distance between them faded, their kiss slow and hot. Armin's hands went under Eren's hoodie, cold against the warm skin of his back. He shivered.
They pulled back, both out of breath and sweating.
"No one's home, right?" Eren murmured. "We don't want to get interrupted this time."
Armin chuckled. "No one's home. And Mikasa's coming back late at night."
"Good." He leaned in again, dragging his tongue across Armin's lips, parting them slightly.
Lost in the haze, Armin didn't even realise he's now on his bed, shirtless, with Eren sucking at his neck.
"I want you," he whispered between kisses. "Only you, Armin."
His hands clasped on Eren's back, nails digging. Eren's kisses trailed down to Armin's chest, abs, and then his lower abdomen. Armin moaned softly as Eren tugged at the waistband of his pants, lips too close to his throbbing member.
Armin's eyes snapped open. He grabbed a fistful of Eren's hair, pulling—but not too hard—just enough to make him meet his gaze.
Eren's turquoise eyes were darker, half-lidded, and full of yearning. His lips were curled in a small smile.
Armin moved without a warning. One second Eren had Armin pinned beneath him, breath heavy in his ear—and the next, the momentum was stolen.
He blinked, startled as the mattress dipped, and suddenly he was the one pressed back.
Eren let out a breathy laugh. Armin's hand slid between them, confident and deliberate. "Are you going to ri—"
He let out a choked moan as Armin's finger teased his tip through the fabric.
"You don't get to take control all the time, Eren." Armin whispered, his cheeks warm.
Eren panted. Is that really Armin?
Well, whatever that is, he liked it.
Armin's grip tightened around Eren's member.
"Fuck, Armin! That hurts..." Eren moaned loudly.
Armin blinked at Eren's messy hair, red cheeks, and teary eyes. "Are you sure you aren't enjoying this?"
Eren decided to shut up to avoid further embarrassment.
Armin's fingers stroked him slowly, not quite closing, lingering just enough to make his breath hitch. Eren tipped his hips forward as if asking for more. He smiled at the reaction, easing his grip and then tightening it again.
"Armin..." He whimpered, his sweatpants getting dirty with pre-cum.
"Armin, take them off." Eren whined softly.
Armin ignored his whines, enjoying the way Eren was writhing under his touch.
They both panted as they lay on the bed. Eren slowly got up, back facing Armin as he sighed.
Armin's eyes trailed down Eren's back, seeing a wing tattoo at his shoulders and a sun on his spine. His knuckles grazed the skin, trailing down Eren's spine, making him slightly arch his back.
Mikasa walked out of the apartment and stood next to Jean, snow clinging to her scarf.
"Told you I'd visit," Jean smiled, stepping closer.
He whispered something in her ear, making her laugh. She pulled the scarf up, hiding her blush.
Jean reached out without thinking, pulling the fabric down just enough to see it.
She didn't pull away this time.
Armin stood by the window long after the apartment went quiet.
Snow dusted the street below, thin and uneven. People walked by. Cars slowed down. Nothing stopped.
He checked his phone once.
No new messages.
For the first time, the thought didn't hollow him out.
Eren had always been like this—walking away instead of staying, watching instead of knocking, choosing distance and calling it protection.
When Armin turned the light off and went to bed, he left the curtain open.
Just in case.