Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE
The world stopped spinning, just for a moment. Armin had read this term in a book somewhere and had laughed at the notion, but on that day (a Monday, of all days, when surprising things had no right to happen) he thought he finally understood. It was the initial lurch in his stomach as his body kept rocketing through space while the ground he stood on fell behind for a fraction of a millisecond before starting up again, pretending it hadn’t happened. Somehow, in that moment, Armin had died, and heaven was a brown haired boy staring up at him with indignant green eyes.
Armin, when asked, would easily admit to being a tad dramatic.
The events leading up to heaven opening its gates had started that morning when he’d been called into his counselor’s office. Armin had met with his counselor only twice before; during his first week of freshman year, when the counselors were required to introduce themselves, and a week ago when Armin had stopped by inquiring about becoming a tutor.
Levi had handed him a piece of paper (Room 117, Monday, Friday, Wednesday, 3:30-4:30) saying “I’ve found someone for you to tutor.”
“Great!” Armin said, slipping the paper into his pocket.
Levi took a sip of his coffee. “He doesn’t have the best track record, and his grades aren’t the greatest.”
“That’s okay,” Armin said, adjusting his backpack. That’s what tutors were for, after all. “What’s his name?”
“Eren Jaeger.”
XXX
Armin knew of Eren Jaeger from the whispers he overheard between classes. He and his adopted sister, Mikasa Ackerman, had moved to Shiganshina a couple months ago after he’d been expelled. Why he had been expelled no one seemed able to agree on. Armin had heard his classmates saying that he’d bitten someone’s ear clean off, attacked a teacher, set the school on fire, let a boa constrictor loose during the middle of gym class. He was sure there were more rumors, probably even more outlandish ones, but he was not privy to them.
Eren Jaeger’s expulsion did not warrant two weeks of the school rumor mill buzzing enough that even Armin heard about them, however. The boy had begun to build something of a reputation at Maria High School. He always argued—loudly—in class discussions, sometimes with the teachers; he had given Jean Kirschtein a black eye for some forgotten remark, though the teachers were, apparently, unaware of this; he’d been seen running to class, knocking down anyone who got in his way, to arrive only seconds before the bell rang.
Armin tried not to form opinions before meeting people, but he was a little uncertain about Eren Jaeger. He hoped he wasn’t going to turn into another source of stress for Armin. He had enough of those to deal with.
“Look who it is.”
Ah. Two of the said sources of stress towered over him, lips pulled into nasty smiles. Armin shrank back against the wall, eyes flicking around, searching for a way out. They found none, however, and shot back up to the two boys. They were huge, much larger than Armin, though much less intelligent and probably not as fast. Speed didn’t help him here, though, as the one on the left ripped his backpack from his shoulder and threw it down the hall.
They said things, but Armin blocked it out. It was better that way. The punches were not as easy. He took them as well as he could, but one caught him in the mouth and he felt his inner lip scrape against the metal of his braces. Another punch to the stomach and he was on his knees, bloody saliva dripping to the floor.
“What a fucking joke,” he heard one of them say, and then they were gone. Armin got to his feet, wiping his mouth, and got his backpack. They weren’t even trying anymore. He wondered if it was because he stopped fighting back if they managed to catch him. They’d never been out to do serious damage, he knew, just to make his life a little more difficult, a touch (or punch, in this case) more painful. He wished they’d move on.
He found his way to a bathroom, gargled water, and pulled his lip down to get a better look at the damage. It was split, but that didn’t hurt nearly as much as the squishy inside did.
It was only after he’d spent quite a few minutes trying to stop the flow of blood that he remembered.
“Oh no!”
He darted out of the bathroom, stumbled, almost ran headfirst into a row of lockers but managed to right himself, and took off down the hallway. He nearly fell down a flight of stairs, which had happened before on numerous occasions (though ‘pushed’ was a more accurate term in those cases), before skidding around a corner and, with relief, recognizing the hallway as the home of room 117. As he drew near to the door he tried to slow down, but before he could a body moved through the doorway, right into Armin’s path.
Armin managed to keep himself upright, though the other person let out an undignified “oof” and fell backwards. It was then that the boy looked up and Armin caught a glimpse of heaven, all brilliant lights and brunet angels. His mind contemplated the spinning rock he lived on while his mouth worked on ahead.
“I’m so sorry are you okay I didn’t mean to do you need to go to the nurse I’m sorry.” He snapped his mouth shut as the boy pushed himself to his elbows and began to say something (probably something vicious, going from the scowl on his face), but stopped and stared at Armin instead.
When nearly a full minute passed like this, Armin asked “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”
And wouldn’t that be typical? His first tutoring session and he’d managed to not only be late, but give his first (ridiculously attractive) pupil a concussion. That would look great on his permanent record.
“What happened to your lip?” He asked, standing up. Armin nervously wiped at his mouth, but when he pulled his hand back there was no blood.
“I uh, I bit it when I fell down the stairs,” Armin said, which was almost the truth. This answer did not please the other boy, who crossed his arms and frowned.
“Bullshit,” he said. “Someone hit you. Who was it?”
Armin pushed a strand of hair out of his face in an attempt to hide his surprise. People didn’t question his excuses. They laughed, they called him clumsy, they moved on.
“No one,” he insisted. “You’re Eren, right? I’m Armin, your tutor. Sorry I’m late. I got held up talking to a teacher. It won’t happen again, I promise.” He smiled, trying to ignore the stinging pain it caused. It faltered as Eren continued to scowl. He wondered if the boy would smile if he told him the truth, but doubted it. “We, uh, we don’t have much time left today but we could talk about what areas you’re having trouble with.”
In an effort to break free of those green (proper green, grass green, not the kind of grey-blue-hazel that people tried to pass off as green) eyes, Armin walked into the classroom and took a seat at a desk near the window. Eren followed, turning a desk around to face him. He dropped his backpack on the floor and plopped down in the chair.
“I’m having trouble with everything,” he admitted.
“That’s okay,” Armin said. He was pretty good at everything. He licked the inside of his lip, making it sting. He considered Eren for a moment, then said, “Before we get started, can I ask you a question?”
“Only if I get to ask you one,” Eren replied. Armin was pretty sure he was going to ask who had hit him again. He wasn’t sure he wanted that. But then Eren said, “Go ahead.”
“How did you get expelled from your old school?”
For a moment, Eren was taken off guard. It was an interesting sight. His eyes widened marginally, his eyebrows rose, his lips parted. Armin stared at him, wondering if he should have kept his question to himself, but couldn’t bring himself to regret asking.
“I got drunk and blew up the science lab,” Eren said flatly. Armin didn’t say anything, trying to remember if that was one of the rumors he’d heard. He couldn’t recall. Eren shifted in his seat and added, “Mikasa said they called me Jaegerbomb after that.”
A surprised laugh bubbled out, despite the stinging of his lip. After a moment Eren’s lips curled into a smile. Armin thought it looked rather nice on him.
“How did you blow it up?” Armin asked.
“Things have a tendency to explode when I’m around,” Eren shrugged, averting his eyes to the window. When Armin laughed again he sunk down in his seat.
“My turn,” he said. He glanced back at Armin and remained silent. His brow furrowed and his lips turned down into a confused frown. He sat back up and leaned forward. “Why the fuck is the school mascot a wall?”
XXX
Armin arrived at work half an hour late. His grandfather grinned at him as he walked through the door, the tinkling bell announcing his presence. The scent of baking bread was a comfortable return to normalcy.
“You’re late, Armin,” the man said.
“Sorry grandpa,” Armin said as he put on his apron and walked around the counter. “I was tutoring and we lost track of time.” This was technically true, though no actual tutoring or learning happened. He had managed to get Eren to smile a couple more times and that was good enough for day one, he told himself.
“Just try to remember to call next time. What happened to your lip?” his grandpa asked as he drew nearer.
“I bit it when I fell down the stairs,” Armin said, smiling and ducking his head a bit. His grandpa laughed and ruffled his hair.
“You’re far too clumsy, Armin.”
“I know, grandpa. I’m working on it.”