Chapter Text
The man wrapped Armin’s hands extra tight, he gave him a weird smirk as he tied the knot, Armin almost recoiled in disgust. And instead of keeping watch for when his boss came back, he creeped closer to the blonde.
Until they were in this current situation.
As the hand traced down, reaching into the inside of his shirt, he bit his tounge so hard he tasted blood. He winced in pain, tears forming in his eyes, "Let me hear that cute voice of yours..” The man whispered to close to his ear he felt a chill in his neck. Armin didn't dare open his eyes, he actually squeezed shut as hard as he could. Jean was probably staring straight at him. How humiliating.
He probably thought he was disgusting now. Armin can't stop the older man because he's tied up. Yeah he can probably fight back, he's a trained scout after all, but it would mess up their whole plan. And it would be all his fault.
He's can't do anything, he's..helpless.
The warm hand that was cold at the finger tips traced his hip now, and suddenly it began to dawn on him he can’t stop it. Armin’s stomach twisted and he felt like throwing up. He finally gained the courage to open his eyes. Yup, Jean was staring directly at him. A hard lump that was hard to swallow began to form in his throat. Armin wished someone would shoot him right there. Jean diverted his gaze as soon as they made eye contact, jaw clenched and making a fist with his hands.
Its okay, Mikasa will come in soon. It’ll all be over soon.
Armin rubbed his wrists gingerly, the ropes had left faint marks. He wiped away stray tears, why is he crying? He’s fine now, it’s over. He’s been told a couple of times he looks like a girl, was it his blonde hair that was starting to get a bit long? Or was it his big round eyes? It didn’t matter anymore, so why were his hands still shaking? It was brief, probably not even 3 minutes. So why did Jeans expression replay in his head? And why did that feeling of being helpless stick longer than it should?
He caught sight of the skirt Historia had let him borrow, practically a perfect fit. And the wig beside it, it fit him like if his hair was naturally that long. He jumped as he felt a hand touch his shoulder, “Hey Armin—woah!” Calm down, its just Jean, “Oh-yeah?” He said, internally screaming on how his voice came out higher that he intended it to. “Showers open, but uh..you doing okay? After…you know..” You're making Jean worry about you. He nodded quick, “Yeah I am, don’t worry!” He grabbed a spare towel as he made a beeline for the bathroom door, not daring to turn around and look at Jean.
He turned the lock behind him, looking around to see the small bathroom and equally small bath place. Figures, this is just a temporary hiding spot in the woods, after all. He turned on the hot water first, as he hesitantly peeled his borrowed white shirt from Historia he kept on under his green scout cape, then he took off the rest.
He plopped into the water, the warm feeling eveloping him. Armin felt himself relaxing for the first time the whole day. Then he found himself sinking into the water, holding his breath. For a second, he imagined drowning in it, the heat filling his lungs instead of just his throat. Then he came back to the surface and exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
Stop it.
He grabbed the soap bar, rubbing it against his arms, his skin. He scrubbed softly at first, normally. Then he began to scrub harder. That feeling of dirtiness wasn’t leaving, he scrubbed his neck, he scrubbed his torso. It wasn’t leaving. He scratched his arms, Armin forgot to turn on the cold water, the initially warm water felt hot now, scorching even. Maybe if he stayed in there long enough it could melt off his dirty flesh.
He scratched his neck, he scratched—
“Armin?”
Suddenly he snapped out of whatever frenzy he was in at the sound of his best friends voice, he turned off the running water.
“Yeah?” He croaked, his throat felt dry.
“Levis calling us to a small meeting after..the earlier fight, come soon.” Mikasa said.
Shit, his hands began to tremble again, he’d tried to forget about the women’s scared dead eyes. The first human he’d ever killed. Armin told himself he had to kill her. And technically he did, if not Jean could’ve died. It was either her or Jean, and he shot her in a split second.
After a pause, the footsteps walking away made him realize he hadn’t even responded to her. He sighed, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around himself.
The steam from the seemingly boiling water misted the mirrors just enough Armin was unable to see himself, which is good because he really didn’t want to face himself right now. Yet, that feeling of dirt on his skin began to creep in again, he scratched his wrists with the rough towel, it began to leave faint marks. But it wasn’t enough.
He glanced around, then his eyes locked onto the little wooden cup holding tooth brushes, and beside it, razors. Perfect.
…
..
What the hell is he doing?
The blood began to drip from his right wrist and into the sink. Damn, it hurt. But it helped that itch. That feeling of dirty uncomfortable skin disappeared for a while.
He really does have to hurry though, but they won’t stop dripping that sickly red. He hadn’t cut that deep, right? Fortunately, there was some clean washcloths and bandages in the cabinet. He pressed them against his the two cuts. After a while, it stopped. Leaving a puffy pinkish mark around them. Good enough, he disposed of the red-stained towels and carefully wrapped the bandages around his wrist. Armin had put on a long sleeved shirt and a blue sweater, perfect. He left the bathroom feeling weirdly relieved.
Now he just hoped no one questioned him.