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When Bertholdt enlists, all he wants is to make it back to his village. Alive. He's going to scrape by with as little attention drawn to him as possible, try his best to stay out of sight. He'll try, but not too hard, because that would draw unwanted stares. What he doesn't plan on is falling in love the same way one doesn't plan accidentally breaking a glass or dropping something important.
Armin is a wrench in the works, a strange boy with a sweet smile and smooth voice. He tells the cabin stories of the outside world at night when they're getting ready to sleep, about mountains of fire and water that stretches as far as the eye can see. Even Jean and Eren have stopped fighting, instead hanging on to his every word, eyes bright. Bertholdt shakes his head from his top bunk, tracing the rough wood of the bed with a long finger. It's nothing like the world he's experienced, but he still stays up late to listen.
---
For some odd reason, they're paired together in hand-to-hand combat despite the foot difference in height between them. What is Shadis thinking? The blond stares at him, determination written all over his face, but the taller of the two wins easily every time.
"Again," the other demands, his eyes burning. Bertholdt wonders what's driving him, but he complies silently. Even bruised and battered, he won't give up, refuses to admit defeat, and finally manages to throw him down with some coaching by Eren and Mikasa. He's spluttering with happiness, spilling out thanks and helping him up cheerfully as he sports a black eye.
---
He never admits it, but he's fascinated. He can't figure him out and desperately wants to know what makes him tick, what makes him keep pushing forward even when he's obviously not suited to this life. He finds himself staring as the blond trains and Reiner elbows him, a knowing smirk on his face.
"Shut up," he grumbles, pushing the blond out of the way as he stalks into the mess hall, angrily grabbing a plate. Armin sits down next to him, uninvited, but he doesn't have the heart to turn him away. They eat in silence, the sort that's comfortable and welcome. It's hard to tear his eyes away from him and his heart beats a little faster.
---
Armin is the one who confesses first, and he knows that this is a bad idea, a terrible one, but when there's small hands clutching at his desperately, it's so hard to say no. He feels like he's been frozen and the words (the lies) won't come out.
I'm sorry. I don't feel that way about you.
The boy's stuttering and smiling sheepishly, making excuses and trying to back off because Bertholdt hasn't replied - it's a bad sign, right? But then he's pulling him into his arms, face buried in his hair, heart hammering, and it hurts so much because he can't turn him away even though he should. He whispers his name so softly he can barely hear himself, but the other understands.
Armin's arms gently hugging him back is the sweetest thing, he thinks. That is, until their lips meet, and Armin tastes like sunshine and hope and so many things he can't have.
---
They tangle their fingers together in the darkness, when nobody can see them, and Armin whispers promises in his ears as if there's going to be a day when things will be alright. He runs his hands through short hair, reassuring caresses that make everything fade away, and all he can see, feel, hear, taste, is Armin. It's cold outside, but nobody seems to mind. Hidden in a storage shed, away from the cabin of slumbering trainees, it's just the two of them and he secretly wishes that it could be like this forever.
"We're going to go out there together," the blonde murmurs, a smile tugging at his mouth when Bertholdt leans down to kiss him again, if only to stop him from talking, and wonders if he can get away by marking Armin's skin, grazing his teeth lightly over his Adam's apple. The other moans and the sound makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"We should go back," he says in a low voice and Armin nods reluctantly, stealing one last kiss before they sneak back into their bunks. Through a dusty window, he can see snow start to fall in the moonlight and thinks it's beautiful.
---
When he remembers what he's supposed to do, who he really is, he can't stop the tears that fall. Once, Armin catches him when he's hiding behind the showers, face buried in his hands, and he wipes them away wordlessly and kisses his fingers.
He wants to tell him he deserves better, that he should leave before he gets hurt, but he's not selfless enough for that. So instead, he snakes one arm around a skinny waist and pulls him closer so he can rest his head on his shoulder, inhaling deeply. He mouths his name against his skin, desperate.
"Should I sing you a song?" The blond asks, and his voice reminds him of the birds.
---
Nobody else knows about their relationship and he knows that the secret is killing Armin on the inside, so when Eren accidentally stumbles on the pair cuddling in the woods, Bertholdt tells him everything, surprising even himself. It's the most he's ever spoken to another trainee and at the end of his long-winded speech, his voice trails off and he stares at the other expectantly. The brunette is caught off guard; all he can do is nod and walk away stiffly.
"That went well," the blond notes with a light laugh as he pulls their bodies closer and presses light kisses along his neck as he wobbles on his tiptoes, barely brushing the underside of his chin. It makes him shiver, despite the blistering summer heat, and he hopes he's not sweating as much as he thinks he is.
Armin says it's endearing.
---
The night after Trost, Armin wiggles his way into his bunk in the middle of the night, reaching for him with a shaky hand. They lie side by side in a space meant for one and the sound of his heartbeat lulls him to sleep. They wake up at the crack of dawn and the blond's eyes are red and rubbed raw, but he smiles and Bertholdt kisses his eyelids, hoping the rest of the cabin is still asleep.
Still, he joins the Scouting Legion and he's never been so petrified in his life as when he's standing in front of Commander Erwin in a stiff salute. His eyes wander and he can see a small figure in the very front, unwavering and tall. When they're dismissed, he's surprised his knees don't give way right then and there and somehow manages to make his way to their new quarters.
"You joined," comes the surprised remark, and Bertholdt starts. He turns around slowly and nods, unable to meet the intense blue gaze, and leads him to the bed. He slides his hands underneath rough cotton to explore the slopes and planes of Armin's body, memorizing the way he feels. He marks him, just once, on the inside of his thigh, before he wraps his lips around the blond and Armin bites back a scream.
They don't go all the way, because Bertholdt is unprepared and Armin is shy, but the shorter male jerks them both off against the wall, whimpering as he climaxes. When he's finished, he collapses, spent, into his embrace, and they fall asleep like that, stripped bare.
---
He's almost unwilling to let go when they leave the safety of the walls and Armin's sent in the opposite direction. Stay safe, he silently wills, and grits his teeth.
The expedition is a failure and he feels the weight of the stares and scorn of the townsfolk as they walk through in a silent procession. Honestly, he could laugh. What had they been hoping to accomplish? They're nothing but toy soldiers in a convoluted game of chess with an opponent who doesn't follow the rules, and he grits his teeth as he hands over his 3D maneuver gear.
He doesn't see Armin for a while and nothing makes sense until they see each other on the wall. He knows why Mikasa can't kill him, but all he can see are shocked blue eyes before he transforms and wills himself not to think anymore.
---
It's hard to ignore the piercing, openly hostile glare Eren sends him, the silent accusations and he knows that it's about more than just the fall of Wall Maria. There have been so many secrets he's tried so hard to keep and they just don't understand how difficult it's been for him, how much it's torn him up on the inside. He never wanted this.
This is why he hadn't wanted to get close.
"He loves you," Eren hisses into his ear when the others aren't around. Bertholdt just swallows, unable to reply. I know.
---
It would be easier to die.
He can't make out the words Armin is shouting at him, but what he can see crystal clear is the hurt and betrayal written all over his face, the way he's desperately holding back tears. His hands are shaking and he can't do anything. This is all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was never supposed to fall, not this bad.
If he could do this all over again, he would.
He'd apologize.
Maybe he would tell him how much he loved him.
But he can't. So instead, he makes a decision, the only good thing he's ever done, and he lets himself go, closing his eyes. (Will it hurt?) Armin's scream is the last thing he hears.
---
"Bertl?"
He groans, rolling over in his bed as he shields his eyes from the glaring morning sun. From the kitchen, he can hear the sound of bacon sizzling and the toaster ringing. It's another day.
---
He stops dead in his tracks when a golden haired boy speeds past him in the hall. His heart thuds. It's getting difficult to breathe, and he tugs at his collar, which is suddenly too tight.
"Dude, you're sweating up a storm!" Reiner snorts, thumping his friend on the back violently. He nearly chokes.
The quiet junior tries his very best to avoid contact, but a smiling blond hands him his coffee at the campus cafe and he finds himself coming back day after day. The name tag reads Armin, and he whispers the syllables to himself quietly as he leaves. He feels like crying.
"You're here quite often," the other giggles, cheeks slightly pink, and he can feel his body tense up already. "Is the coffee that good?"
Bertholdt can barely manage a nod before he dashes off, only to realize he's forgotten his wallet at the counter. Thankfully, he's got a wad of crumpled bills in his pocket and it's a week before he has to go back. He timidly receives the wallet the barista hands him, avoiding eye contact. He jumps a foot when their fingers brush. When he gets home, he opens it and a small slip of paper flutters out. There are numbers written down and he knows what they're for but he won't touch them.
"Come on, don't be stupid," the tall blond frowns at him, drumming his fingers on the table as Bertholdt tries his best to reason with him with as few words and as many wild gesticulations as possible. "If a cute guy slipped me his number, I'd be on that like butter on bread. Just go for it. What could possibly go wrong?"
The brunette shakes his head violently, fingers trembling. "You don't understand."
---
He doesn't go to the cafe for a while. When he finally caves in to his body's demand for caffeine, the blond looks at him with a hurt expression that hits a little too close for comfort, and quickly passes off his order to a coworker discreetly, but he sees it.
Didn't he say he'd say sorry?
Bertholdt sits outside the shop until closing, fiddling his thumbs and perspiring madly. He should go. What is he even waiting for? Finally, Armin appears before he can escape, wearily shrugging on a jacket when he scrambles toward him.
"I'm sorry," tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop himself and he's gripping thin shoulders as tightly as he can. "I just didn't know what to do."
The smile he gets in return is enough to make up for all the years he's spent agonizing silently and he can feel tears pricking his eyes. Instead, he just nods his agreement, biting his lower lip when the blond shyly suggests grabbing lunch the next day.
He wants this so badly.
---
"It's a second chance," Annie says softly as she tosses a salad for dinner. "Things are different now."
"Do you think he remembers?" His voice is hoarse, pleading, (please say no) and she shrugs.
"Who knows?"
He dreams of monsters that ravage towns, humanoid in appearance, and their faces haunt him. The bodies of his friends pile up in front of him and their names ring in his ears as they burn. Thomas Wagner. Nack Teaz. Marco Bodt. He watches as the walls crumble and the titans storm in. He wakes up in a cold sweat, knowing he was one of them.
---
Armin's hands are as small as he remembers them and their fingers fit together just right. They're at an amusement park and Bertholdt is eons away from his comfort zone, but the blond looks so happy.
"Come on," he coaxes happily, leading him into a long line of screaming toddlers and frustrated parents. "This one's supposed to be the best one!"
They share a candied apple and the other gets it all over his face, but it's cute and funny and makes his heart ache as he tenderly wipes it off, hand lingering for a moment.
He kisses him at the top of the Ferris wheel, and maybe it's cliched and overdone, but when Armin kisses back, arms thrown around his neck, he doesn't really care. They're still tangled when they reach the bottom and the blond flushes brightly as the attendant averts his eyes and asks them to get off. "Let's go again."
---
"I don't deserve him."
The table stills immediately and his friends stare back at him. It's almost comical, the way Annie's fork is halfway to her mouth, eyes wide.
"I betrayed him. I-"
He's shaking and Reiner slowly puts down his glass before reaching out to grasp his hand. The girl copies his motions, covering his other.
"You did what you were told," she sighs, her face betraying nothing. "It was years ago. Generations ago. We're not responsible anymore."
"But we are," he whimpers. "You didn't see him. You didn't see the way he looked at me."
"Don't you think you deserve this?" Reiner asks softly, staring intently at his plate of half-eaten spaghetti. "Don't you think you've beaten yourself up over this for long enough? You deserve to be happy for at least one lifetime."
---
He has nightmares. They claw at him like the guilt that festers inside of him, and he remembers everybody's faces tinted with betrayal. When he closes his eyes, he can see clouded blue eyes and he screams.
When Reiner shakes him awake, there are tears running down his face and he splutters apologies over and over again.
Is it too late to atone?
He calls Armin and the other picks up, even though it's half past 3 in the morning, and he stays with him until he finally falls back into a restless, dreamless sleep.
---
"Are you sure?" He asks hoarsely, his eyes trained on the clock nervously. Next to him, he can hear an exasperated sigh.
"Of course I am," comes the reply he's wanted to hear for ages, but he refuses to believe it. He can feel the blond press against him gently, an arm wrapping around his waist, and he closes his eyes tightly.
"I'm no good for you. You should find someone better."
There's a terrifying silence and he's just about to open his eyes when he feels soft lips press against his, wet and salty.
"Bertholdt, please," he begs and the sound of his name makes his chest constrict. He doesn't know what else to do but wrap his arms around a skinny waist he vowed years ago to protect, and kisses him back. They grow more frantic, hurried, and his hands are awkward and clumsy as he presses Armin into his sheets and tastes his skin. He runs his hand down a smooth chest shakily, like he isn't justified, and he's so afraid of how many more promises he might break.
There's a strange longing that sits inside him, twisting and curling around him, and he can't think anymore.
But I've made so many mistakes. He mouths silent apologies as he leaves kiss marks, the blond writhing and gasping underneath him, and his eyes are dark and heavy with want and need.
"I love you," Armin whispers over and over as he takes him, relishing the strangled moans that fall from his lips, the bruises on pale skin that stain him as his own. He loses himself in the heat the other offers, in skinny arms that hold him until sunrise and tell him everything's going to be alright.
He doesn't remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to the smell of coffee and smiles fondly as the blond pushes a steaming mug into his hands.
---
They must be a strange pair, with their eyes puffy and red from crying, hands clasped together as tightly as possible. It's the middle of the winter and the sky is grey, unpromising, but they huddle against each other for warmth.
"Remember when we said we'd go to the sea?" Armin asks in a low voice so quiet he can barely make out the words, and Bertholdt nods. "We promised we'd see the world together."
He remembers days spent in dusty back rooms, tangled in each other's limbs, pouring over thick tomes bound in old leather. The pictures are still vivid in his memory, colours faded from age, but just as grand and breathtaking.
The air is salty and he licks his lips nervously as he leads the blond toward the beach, pausing to kick off his shoes. The sand is cold under his bare feet and he suppresses a shiver as Armin presses closer into his side, seeking shelter from the wind, and they slowly make their way toward the water.
I always wanted to see it with you.
They stand their in silence as the waves lap at their ankles, numbing their skin, but it's what he's been waiting for. He feels like he can finally breathe as he listens to the gulls cry as they swoop among grey clouds, and he pulls Armin's hand up to his mouth to brush kisses against his knuckles.
"I love you," he finally whispers as he runs his free hand through wind tossed gold, staring into blue eyes. "I've always loved you."
Armin smiles through his tears and leans up onto his toes to press their lips together.
"I know," he murmurs into the kiss. "I know."