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On good nights, Armin dreamed of the ocean. He imagined a blue that stretched toward the horizon and met the sky, a vast body of water that reflected the sunlight and sparkled. Sometimes he would imagine sand—sand like the kind that lay in the shallows of the river in Shiganshina; smooth and soft. On good nights, Armin slipped peacefully and quickly into dreams of water and light. On good nights.
Bad nights came after particularly long days, after a certain sight or smell triggered a memory that Armin found hard to shake, a memory that reminded him of the hard times, the worst times; the food shortages and his family slowly dying off one by one. Those nights were long and restless, but Armin had enough good nights to almost forget.
Eren never had good nights. Sleeping next to him on their narrow mats, Armin could tell. He could feel every time Eren shifted, could hear him talking and groaning in his sleep. Some mornings when Armin woke up it was with new bruises on his legs where Eren had unconsciously kicked him in the night. Eren never seemed to notice or remember when they got dressed for training, and Armin never said anything about it, too concerned with the dark circles under Eren's eyes and his constant scowl to add to his worries.
Eren never said anything about his nightmares, but every day he looked more haggard, the circles under his eyes getting darker. Armin spent more and more time watching Eren during training, concerned with how sluggishly he moved when he wasn't being observed. He was so distracted watching Eren stumble as the squad went on their run through camp one day that he lost track of his own feet and managed to twist his ankle on a protruding root.
Wincing with every step, Armin finally collapsed back at camp, one of the last as usual. He glanced up when Eren held a hand toward him, and Armin thought back to their time as kids when Eren was always there waiting to pull him back up. So much about Eren had changed since then, but Armin still got glimpses of the old Eren, the Eren who wasn't quite so angry, who hadn't lost quite so much.
But some things hadn't changed since they were kids, so when Eren held his hand out to help him up, Armin hardened his gaze and ignored it. He straightened on his own and realized a moment later what a stupid decision that was when his injured ankle rolled and he stumbled. Eren was there, though, hadn't moved away even when Armin had refused his help. He caught Armin by the elbows and steadied him, frowning down at him.
"What's wrong with you?"
"It's—my ankle," Armin said, standing on it gingerly and wincing.
Eren didn't let go of him, kept a firm grip on Armin even as he tried to pull away again. "Let's go back to the barracks."
"I can," Armin said, knew he'd be able to make it there all right, it would just take a while. "It's almost dinner."
Eren shrugged, and Armin was more concerned by his blasé attitude more than anything else. He shifted to Armin's side, lifting one of Armin's arms over his shoulders and wrapping the other around Armin's waist.
"Eren…" he started because there were still people roaming around, dragging their feet to get to dinner, watching Armin and Eren make their slow way back to the barracks.
"Fuck them," Eren muttered, hauling Armin up a little higher, taking more of his weight against his side.
The dorm was empty when they got back with everyone at dinner, so Eren helped him over to one of the lower beds before letting go, leaving Armin to flop back onto it as he tried to keep weight off his ankle.
Eren dropped onto the bed next to him, close enough that Armin moved his leg to ensure Eren wouldn't inadvertently sit on it. Eren just grabbed it back though, gripping Armin's calf and pulling his leg up. Armin winced at his brusqueness, but then his foot was in Eren's lap and Eren was carefully slipping off his boot.
"Here," Armin said, sitting up to do it himself, but Eren put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back.
"Lay down," he said.
Armin looked down to watch Eren start to pull the boot off, watched Eren grit his teeth as he struggled. "Why?"
Eren made a disgruntled noise and said: "You're supposed to keep injuries above your heart to reduce swelling." The boot finally dropped to the floor and Eren settled Armin's foot in his lap. "Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"
"Hey," Armin said, nudging Eren's side with his good leg.
Eren squirmed, his face softening into an almost-smile. Then he picked up Armin's other leg and took that boot off, too.
"You're undressing me now?" Armin teased, just to watch Eren scowl and look awkward, to hear him say, defensively, "I was just trying to help."
And Armin remembered again how much some things between them had changed since they were little, since Shiganshina, and how some things hadn't changed at all. Eren still babied him, still looked after Armin the way he begrudged Mikasa doing for him. Armin understood the resentment sometimes, but now it was hard to mind with Eren's fingers absentmindedly pressing against his sore ankle; the touch painful and relieving all at once.
"Do you remember when you wanted to go swimming in the river?" Armin asked, staring up at the wooden slats of the bunk below him. "First it started with wanting to get your feet wet, then you were taking off all your clothes."
He glanced over to look at Eren's face. He wasn't quite smiling, but he was staring into space without the same angry look he usually sported, and Armin considered that a victory. "Well how stupid that there was a river running through town that no one could swim in."
Armin laughed, the sound of it dying quickly in the empty room around them when Eren looked at him. "And right after you'd convinced me to get in, too, Mrs. Sommers found us and chased us out."
A little grin finally found its way onto Eren's face as he met Armin's gaze. "She chased us halfway back to my house—"
"—while we were still trying to put our clothes back on."
Eren's widened smile slowly slid off his face as he turned toward the room at large. "She's dead now."
Armin let the silence stretch as his heart sank, unsure of what to say, wishing that he knew how to reach Eren for longer periods of time than a few seconds of happiness. Sometimes Armin wondered if it were possible to reach Eren for any longer than that. "Yeah, well…" Armin nudged Eren's side with his good leg again. "Imagine what she'd say now; two delinquents in the military."
"Delinquents," Eren echoed. He slanted Armin a glance, a bit of his earlier smile coming back. "Some delinquent you were. You had no problem carrying that illegal book around but as soon as I wanted to go in the river you put up a fight."
Armin smiled, opened his mouth to say that Eren's form of delinquency had always been brasher than his, but then Eren went on, his expression darkening again. "Whatever happened to that?"
"What?"
"That book," Eren said. "The one we used to read."
Armin hesitated, wished he had a different answer to give because their dream was that book and everything inside it, and it was gone now where he couldn't get it back. Eren was watching him, body still, face intent. "I had to leave it behind," Armin finally said. "In Shiganshina."
"Oh." Eren looked away again, but it was only a moment before he was shifting; setting Armin's leg on the bed and then flopping onto the thin mattress beside him.
Armin turned his head on the pillow a bit, observing the dark circles under Eren's eyes. They were still visible even in the dim light of the room. Then he followed Eren's gaze to stare at the bottom of the bunk above them. He shifted a bit on the mattress, his hand nudging Eren's.
Armin waited, letting Eren decide, and a moment later he gripped Armin's hand like they'd done earlier, like they'd done when they were little, when Eren was keeping him close by after saving him from bullies. It felt different now, though because now Eren was the one who needed help, and this was all Armin knew to do to save him.
#
The first thought that came to Armin's mind when he woke was that they'd missed dinner. The second thought was ow, when he realized that the thing that had woken him was Eren's knee digging into his back. Armin turned over, angry and tired and hungry, but Eren was still asleep, muttering and twitching, occasionally lashing out. Armin managed to wriggle out of the way before one of Eren's arms flew out to hit him.
On nights like these, nights when Eren's dreams were bad enough to disrupt both of them, Armin usually just let him wear himself out, since it was always easier for Eren to fall into a restful sleep if he managed it on his own. Armin couldn't stand that tonight, though, not with Eren flushed as though he were running a fever, with tears on his cheeks.
"Eren." Armin whispered his name, trying to be mindful of the others boys in the room, even if a good portion had probably already woken at the sound of Eren's creaky mattress. Eren jerked again, his knee jerking upward to hit Armin in the stomach this time.
Armin whuffed out a breath of air, feeling much less sympathetic than he had before. "Eren," he said again, louder this time, gripping one of Eren's shoulders and shaking. Eren woke with a sudden start, his eyes snapping open and hand jumping up to grab Armin's wrist and squeeze.
"Ow, Eren." Armin said, prying Eren's hand off him.
"Be quiet," Jean groaned from across the room.
Eren blinked a few times, looking dazed, and when Armin eventually managed to pull away, Eren just watched his hand disappear beneath the covers with a little frown. "What is it?" he asked. "What—" He sat up suddenly and looked around, as though he were expecting to see a titan peering into one of the windows.
"You were having a bad dream," Armin said.
Eren stared at him for a long moment and then slumped back against his bed. Armin watched him and lay back, too. He thought that Eren was angry with him, or had maybe fallen back to sleep, but then Eren shifted, let out a long breath. "I'm tired, Armin," he said.
Armin looked at him in time to watch his eyes close, brow still furrowed. He didn't lash out for the rest of the night, but no matter how long Armin watched him before finally drifting off himself, Eren's face never seemed to relax.
#
Armin struggled through training the next day, his ankle still twinging occasionally and weaker than usual. He didn't see Eren until Armin slumped down in the dining hall with his bowl of soup. Eren blinked slowly over his own meal, his head nodding forward every now and then while Mikasa looked on stony-faced.
Armin sipped at his soup and tuned out the chatter around him, wondering distantly if this was what the ocean would smell like; salty and overpowering; an endless soup bowl of saltwater. He wondered if he'd ever get the chance to find out. He glanced up in time to watch Eren's eyes slowly open, and Armin pushed away the sudden unpleasant thought that one or both of them might never see it. He thought about it too much; losing Eren, though Armin was no fool, and he knew it would be more likely to be the other way around.
Eren suddenly jerked straight in his seat, blinking hard, and Armin came back to his surroundings when Mikasa said, "Maybe you should go to bed."
Eren grunted, looking too tired to even put up a fight as he slowly rose to his feet. Armin pushed his bowl aside and followed after him, throwing a quick wave in Mikasa's direction. He met Eren just outside the door, catching his arm as Eren swayed down the stairs. He loosened his hold as they began to walk, but Eren just adjusted his grip to grasp Armin's hand and hold on.
Armin didn't say anything, just walked slowly with Eren back to their bunks, tugging a little on his hand when Eren's gait slowed. He all but collapsed onto the bed when they got there, sitting down and swaying slightly. Armin kneeled down and carefully took off Eren's boots, glancing up to see Eren had closed his eyes and was breathing slowly.
Armin sat on the edge of the bed beside Eren, just watching him, wondering if Eren had really fallen asleep sitting up.
Then he said, "I'm tired, Armin."
Armin exhaled slowly, thinking that Eren had been tired for too long, had been through too much, and he wished he knew how to give him some peace for once. But he couldn't do anything except put a tentative arm around Eren's shoulders and hold on. Eren leaned into his side at once, eyes drooping. "You haven't been sleeping well," Armin said.
Eren hummed in agreement, eyes opening and staring at nothing, breathing slowly. The pressure against Armin's side increased until Eren was slumped against him, pushing him over. Armin lay back against the bed as slowly as possible, trying to do it gently so as not to wake Eren. Eren groaned anyway, shifting and sighing against Armin's front, settling between his legs and nudging his face against his neck. Armin stared up at the ceiling, wrapping an arm around Eren's back and reaching the other up to card his fingers through Eren's hair.
Eren sighed again, breath hot and damp against Armin's neck, making him shudder and flush, but then Eren was truly asleep; a dead weight against Armin's body. Armin lay there, feeling Eren breathe against him, the warmth of him against Armin's front. It was so hard now to think that he might not be there in the future, that he wouldn't always be warm and within reach; willing to hold Armin's hand or lay against him at night. Armin worried about the day that his anger died and he was left with nothing but his exhaustion, and his dreams, wondered if that would be the moment he would lose Eren forever. He took a breath and closed his own eyes, pushing the thoughts away and tightening his arms around Eren's back. He waited for the nightmares to start because it never took very long after Eren settled down. But Eren remained pliant and quiet, and at some point during his waiting, Armin drifted off too, keeping Eren company through the only good night Armin could remember.