It was supposed to be a simple summer for Annie: take the train, get to camp, deal with brats for three months, go home. She’d figure life out afterwards.
Then Armin Arlert entered the scene: ray of sunshine, romcom fan and optimist. Very stubborn as well. He made it his goal to brighten Annie’s stay at camp, while also doing his best to prove to her that not all rom-coms have to be the same.
She was skeptical of his preposition at first-Â but who knows what fate holds?
“You still have the plushie.”
In the corner of the bed, the duck plushie she's won him is staring back at her.
“What?” Armin stops his ministrations at once, following her gaze. “Oh, of course I still have it.”
A smile creeps onto her lips. She’s not sure why, but she wasn’t expecting him to actually keep it. It was a silly gift after all, given in the brink of the moment. Why would he?
Annie’s not sure when she dozed off, but she wakes up to the sound of not one, but three alarms, all going off at the same time. The cacophony of tunes screeches her ear; yet, when she goes to prop herself up, she realises that she can’t.Â
She looks down, finding Armin’s arms wrapped around her middle. His face buried in her shoulderblade, his breath warm even through the fabric of her shirt.
From across the room, Hitch groans loudly. She throws her blanket to the side, still groaning and cursing under her breath, and turns off all alarms.Â
It’s only then that Annie takes in her surroundings. They’re in her room. She remembers they were talking about her visiting, and Armin was telling her about all the places he would take her: his favourite coffee house down the shore, the park of roses, this pastry shop he thought she’d like. She must have dozed off at some point, and they must have snuggled into each other during the night.
And Hitch must have seen them.
A wave of embarrassment washes over her then, at the mere idea of being caught in such an intimate moment.Â
But it’s short lived, as Hitch marches over to her side of the room and nudges Armin, roughly so. He groans, his hold on her tightening slightly.
“Come on, lover boy,” Hitch teases, nudging his shoulder again. Yet she sounds rather groggy herself. “We have work to do.”
Armin holds her a second longer, but then he peels himself away, letting out such a dragged out sigh. Annie finds she immediately misses his warmth.
He wiggles to the edge of the bed and reaches for his glasses. It’s then that Annie takes the time to fully take him in; his messed up hair, his shirt slightly lifting; his broad back.Â
But before she can fully bask in the sight, Armin leans down and presses a kiss to the side of her head.Â
“Go back to sleep,” he smiles.
“Get a room!” Hitch yells from the bathroom.Â
She can see her rolling her eyes in the mirror as she's putting sunscreen on, yet she’s smiling all the same.
Armin turns to her only briefly. “You're in the room!”
Hitch says something else, but she doesn’t hear her over the sound of her own laughter. Armin places another kiss to her forehead, smiling against her skin.
“Sorry we woke you up. Go back to sleep.”
She shakes her head. “I can work today.”
Armin clicks his tongue. “Bed rest for a few days,” he reminds her. But then his face softens. He brushes the hair out of her face, his fingertips grazing her skin oh so softly, eliciting a little sigh from her. “And you could use some more sleep.”
She wants to fight him, to say that she’s feeling much better and can, in fact, work, but when she tries to move her leg, a pang of pain shoots through her. She tries not to show it, but it’s probably futile with how Armin seems to winch too, his eyes traveling to her knee almost instinctively.Â
“Okay,” she says. “But give me a kiss before you go.”
Armin smiles so brightly then. He leans down, his face just above hers. “A sleep well kiss?”
But he doesn’t wait for an answer, closing the gap between them. His lips are soft against hers, and the kiss rather lazy, but she likes it like that. Like she had all of him, starting with his early mornings.
He's smiling when he pulls back, the sight making her heart melt in her chest. But it’s not enough.
“A good luck kiss,” Annie says.Â
She cups his cheeks and pulls him down, recapturing his lips. It’s a little firmer this time, but he doesn’t protest, kissing her with just the same intensity as she does him.
Armin’s a little flushed when he draws back, yet he's smiling so softly. He brushes her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger for a second.
“Sleep well, Annie.”
She finds herself smiling a little, too, her entire being warm. She caresses his cheek with her thumb for a second, eliciting a little sigh from him. And then she drops her hand, letting it fall next to her.
“Good luck today.”
She dozes off shortly after he leaves, sinking back into her blankets.
The sun is high in the sky when she opens her eyes again, shining so bright that it almost blinds her. Her phone is buzzing wildly somewhere near. Annie pulls the blanket over her head, shielding herself from the obnoxious light, then feels around for her phone. Once it’s safely inside of her blanket cocoon, and the screen light has been lowered comfortably enough for her eyes, she scans through the notifications. There’s a text from her father asking about her leg, four from Armin, and about a hundred on the Rice Fiasco group-chat.
She shoots her dad a text back, assuring him that everything is fine as could be, then opens Armin’s texts.Â
9.02 am
Armin: there’s breakfast on the kitchen table when you wake up
Armin: i wanted to bring it up to your room but hitch wouldn’t let me >:(
Armin: said i'm spoiling you too much
A little smile creeps into her lips then. Hitch is probably right. Though, and she will not admit this out loud, especially not to Armin, she likes being spoiled. It would get to his head if he knew.
11.15 am
Armin: the kids are asking about you
Annie freezes in her tracks a little, her thumb hovering over the screen. She's not seen the kids since the hike, and if her sense of the passage of time is right, they’re leaving in two days. She'd hate for that to be their last memory of her.
It’s only then that she registers her stomach grumbling, so she quickly types a reply.
Annie: thanks :)
Annie: you can bring them over later
Annie makes quick work of getting out of bed and throwing some clean clothes on– a pair of black shorts and a light-pink t-shirt, with a cat printed on the front.Â
Getting to the first floor, however, proves to be a quite demanding task with her fucked up knee, and she needs to sit for a minute before continuing her quest for food. Sure enough, when she enters the kitchen, there’s a plate of pastries waiting for her on the table, with a blue sticky note next to it. She recognizes the writing as Armin's.
We saved you the best ones :)
She scoffs a little, but digs in all the same, thankful for the food. It’s only when her phone pings again that she remembers her colleagues’ shenanigans and opens the group-chat, then scrolls all the way to the top.Â
The first text is a picture of two hair dye boxes, both purple, sent by Hitch this morning.
Jean: hell nah
Pieck: ????
Sasha: omg what is that
Hitch: we’re dyeing our hair purple
Jean: HELL NAH
Hitch: it was not a suggestionÂ
Jean: over my dead body.
Pieck: where did you even get that
Hitch: i have my ways
Hitch: @jeanboy you have to i don’t make the rules
Connie: ykw i’m down you can do my whole head
Hitch: now THAT’S the spirit!!!
Pieck: hell yeah
Sasha: your mom will have a heart attack when she sees you
Annie snorts at only the mental image of Connie, with a full head of purple hair.
Armin: dear GOD
Jean: i’d rather ear shit than put that in my hair
Hitch: why are you such haters >:((
Sasha: it’d ruin their aesthetic
Sasha: when are we executing the plan boss?
Hitch: so glad you asked!!! i have no idea
Hitch: but hannah cannot see us until we’re all purple in the head
Reiner: i tried to stop her guys
Hitch: love you too babe
Hitch: maybe it’s best we do it after the kids leave
Pieck: we need a brush or smth too
Sasha: when are they leaving again??
Armin: saturday morning
Armin: 11am
Connie: did you check the schedule or do you just know all of that
Hitch: @piecksfingers dingus i forgot about that
Pieck: i can take care of thagt :)
Hitch: ty!!!
Hitch: so saturday afternoon. like 5pm. we’re all dyeing our hair
hitchmitch has pinned a message
Jean: i never consented to this
Hitch: well i did
Annie: you can only do my tips
Hitch: I WIN
Hitch: @jeanboy will you stop being such a grinch now
Jean: do not encourage her!!!!!!
Annie snorts. Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she thinks up an answer, but before she can, another notification comes in, this time from Armin.
Armin: are you sure?
Annie: i don’t think she’ll leave me alone until my hair is purple
Annie: and it sounds fun
Armin: oh yeah definitely
Armin: are you sure it’s okay to bring the kids over though?
A little smile pulls on her lips.
Annie: yeah
Annie: i’m bored anyway
She lingers on their conversation, waiting for him to type his reply, when she hears the door being thrown open. Annie snaps her head up and perches towards the entrance. She’s met by the tall figure of the cook, Ymir, holding a few bags of snacks under her arm.
“I heard you’re throwing a party,” Ymir grins.
Annie frowns. “I am?”
The girl drops the bags on the coffee table and throws herself on the couch. “Your friends said so.”
Ymir puts her feet up on the coffee table and reaches for the remote, turning the TV on and switching through the channels until she finds something she likes. It looks a lot like a cooking show.
Annie returns to her phone, but there’s no new text, just the blue arrows indicating that Armin’s seen her last message.
Sighing, she raises to her feet and pockets her phone. She limps towards the couch and joins Ymir, who’s already munching on some chips. She thrusts the bag towards her and Annie doesn’t turn her down, taking a handful.
She’s not sure how much time passes of them just sitting on the couch, no word exchanged between them. But before she knows it, she’s so invested in the cooking show that she finds herself even rooting for one of the contestants. Only for them to be kicked out over a way too runny panna cotta. Not that she’s had any in her life, but she figures it wasn’t supposed to be a liquid dessert.
Ymir throws her hands in the air, groaning loudly. “How can you even fuck that up so badly, it’s literally just jellied milk!”
Annie scoffs, reaching into the chips bag only to find it empty.
“What else have you got?”
Ymir groans again, but rummages through her pile of snacks all the same. She hands her a bag of popcorn just as the ads start rolling.
“Is your leg any better?”
“Yep.” Annie stuffs her mouth full of popcorn.Â
Ymir hums, inspecting her bandages that she’s hastily put on in the morning. She did a lousy job of it, but it covers the stitches as the doctor’s instructed. The painkillers have been helping, too.
“Good, good.”
They go back to the show without another word, but she quickly abandons it when her phone pings again.Â
Armin: is before lunch alright?
She shoots him an okay right back. She’s more excited about seeing him than the kids, but she won’t tell him.Â
A picture rolls through right when she’s about to put her phone away. When she opens it, she’s met with the smiling faces of her kids, all gathered up behind Armin. She tries not to stare at his face too much, though peeling her eyes away from him is a little hard, what with that sweet smile he’s giving.
Right next to him is Andy, giving her not one but two thumbs up. He’s smiling a little smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, like he’s been forced to be there.
For a second, Annie finds herself wondering if this whole ordeal was Armin’s idea and not the children’s.Â
But she doesn’t linger on the thought too long, for there is a loud knock on the door.Â
Ymir jumps to her feet at the same time Annie snaps her head towards it. There’s a blonde girl standing on the other side of the glass door, wearing a little frown. Annie squints at her, at her pink summer dress and luxurious hair flowing down her shoulders. She looks oddly familiar, though she cannot quite place her finger on why.
The girl gives her a little wave, and she waves back, but then Ymir opens the door and stirs her away. She doesn’t seem to mind though, for she melts into her touch. Annie narrows her eyes, following them as they disappear around the corner. For a second, she wonders if that’s the idiot girlfriend the cook has been mentioning, but she soon realises that she cares a lot more about the cooking show than some stranger’s love life.Â
Annie loses any sense of time as she sinks into the couch, at some point zoning out of the cooking show altogether. The cook never returns, but she’s left her bags of snacks there, so Annie takes the liberty to go through them.
It’s only when Armin rounds the corner, followed by a little marching squad of children, that she sits up straighter and attempts to clean up the mess.
“Hi, Annie,” he beams when he opens the door.
Annie’s face immediately melts into a smile. For a second, she thinks he’ll come over and kiss her– she so desperately wants him to kiss her. To feel his warmth and be engulfed in his scent and get lost in his affection.Â
But he doesn’t, leaving her a little disappointed. He beckons the kids inside instead, and they all gather around her, sitting wherever they find appropriate.Â
“How are you feeling, miss Annie?” asks a little girl with oval glasses.
But before she gets the chance to answer, another asks, “Did you see the picture? Did you see it?”
There’s so much excitement in her voice that she can only mirror it.Â
“I did. You guys are so pretty.”
The little girl beams, a little blush spreading on her cheeks. Annie’s smile only widens. She exchanges a look with Armin, raising an eyebrow at him. He smiles right back, sitting on the floor, a little to the side, so as to let the kids be closer to her.
“You did?”
“We won at Capture the Flag!” a boy says, his green eyes gleaming with pride.
He and his friends nod thoroughly. “Yep!”
“We paired up with Sasha and Connie’s group,” Armin explains, leaning back on his hands. “Do you guys want to tell Annie about the game?”
And so, they do. The kids dive right into the story, speaking over one another, giving her all the little details about the game and their strategy and who did what. It was Andy that won them the other flag and made a run for the finish line, although the boy says nothing about it, staring at his own shoes as his friends go on and on about the game. Annie studies him for a little while; his little blush as his friends sing him praises, the way he’s rubbing his nape and trying to argue that it was no big deal, really.Â
But none of his friends are having it. Armin encourages him to accept his praise, for he really did play such a big part in winning the game. Eventually, albeit sheepishly, Andy accepts the praise, and starts telling her his own version of events. How he sneaked up on the other group and hid in the bushes and took them by surprise. How he made a run for the finish line, with someone from the red team only two feet behind him.Â
“I didn’t think I’d make it,” he confesses, wrapping up his story.
Annie’s smile broadens. Only now does she realise that she hasn’t stopped smiling since the kids walked in, and her cheeks are starting to hurt.
“You did so well,” she says, and she means it. “Good thinking, Andy!”
The boy blushes such an intense shade of red, he looks a lot like a tomato, and she has to suppress a laugh.
“I learnt from the best,” he shrugs, rubbing his upper arm.
Armin rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” he says, patting the boy’s shoulder. “That was all you.”
“I was talking about Annie,” Andy mumbles, his blush getting brighter.
Annie’s eyes widen slightly, and she breaks into a short laughter as Armin rolls his eyes theatrically. Yet he’s smiling all the same. Andy’s blush only deepens, and he says nothing more.
The others go on with their adventures of the day, yet Annie’s not paying much attention anymore. Her eyes zoom in on Andy, who’s sitting a little to the side, just watching the others.
Annie scoots over, leaning closer to him. It grabs his attention, and he raises his eyes to look at her.
“Are you alright?” she asks, her voice a little low.Â
She doesn’t want to put him in the spotlight, but something in his demeanor worries her a little. He’s never been so quiet before.
The boy nods, though it’s not very convincing. When she doesn’t back down, he sighs.
“A little spooked from… you know,” he eventually says, gesturing towards her knee.
Annie hums. She’s not sure how much the kid saw of her wound, but the way he refuses to look her in the eye tells her that it was too much.
She sighs. “Listen, I’m really sorry about the other night. It wasn’t fair of us to drag you into our mess. We were the adults in the situation and we didn’t act it one bit.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose, cringing at the mere memory of their antics. Doing all of that in front of a kid was so embarrassing.Â
But Andy shakes his head. “No, it was fun. It was like having a seat in the front row of a circus.”
She scoffs at that, though her face warms up. That sounds more like Andy.
“How did you know what to do?” he asks after a minute.
When she looks back at him, Andy’s already looking at her, wearing such a curious expression.Â
“What do you mean?”
“In the forest. You kept your cool for so long. How did you know what to do?”
Annie bites her lip, thinking it over. Snapping at her traitorous-but-not-really boyfriend-but-not-really in front of a frightened boy isn’t exactly her idea of keeping her cool.
“I didn’t,” she admits. The boy’s eyebrows shoot up. “I had no idea what I was doing. I just knew that I had to do something.”
The boy hums, though he says nothing more on the matter. Annie’s swiped away into the other kids’ conversation, and Andy soon joins in himself. She’s not sure how much time passes of them just telling her about their day and shenanigans, but her– or Ymir’s– cooking show is soon forgotten, running in the background as mere background noise. The children raid Ymir’s sweets until there’s nothing left but empty packages, though the cook never does come back. She shouldn’t have left them there if she wanted them for herself anyway.Â
“Guys, it’s time for lunch,” Armin says at some point.Â
He raises to his feet, gesturing for them to get up, too.
He’s met with a collective complaint.Â
“But we want to stay with Miss Annie,” the girl with oval glasses says, pouting up at Armin. And her friends soon join her in her pleas.Â
“Yeah, you said we could stay with Miss Annie!”
Annie’s lips pull up.
“I know,” Armin sighs. “But we need to go to lunch. And Annie needs her rest, too.”
“I could come with you,” she offers.
The kids light up at that. They look from Armin to her and then back to Armin. Armin meets her eyes then, searching them thoroughly, and she holds his gaze throughout it.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m a little hungry anyway.”
His brows furrow. “It’s a bit of a walk though. I could just bring you lunch here–”
“Or you could carry me.”Â
She’s not sure where that came from, but she delights in the way his eyes widen only slightly, only for her to notice, and the faintest blush creeps into his cheeks. He swallows, and she follows the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the motion. But he regains his composure in no time, his lips twitching up.
“Or I could carry you,” he repeats, slowly, his voice leveled.
Annie hums, her own face warming up under the intensity of his gaze.
But then one of the boys speaks up, his voice cheerful. “I can carry you, Miss Annie!”
Another joins in. “I can help too.”
Annie’s eyes widen slightly, and she has to hold back a laugh.
“How about you guys go ahead?” Armin suggests. “Annie and I will join you soon, okay?”
To her surprise, they do listen this time, and scatter outside in a hurry, leaving the door to swing behind them.
Once he makes sure they’re out of earshot and sight, Armin turns to her, wearing a teasing smile.
“Or you could carry me?” he repeats her words back to her.
Annie snorts, but she cannot meet his eye. “It sounded better in my mind.”
He clicks his tongue, but he’s smiling all the same when he sits next to her, his knee brushing against hers.
“You don’t have to carry me though,” she says, her face warming up. “I can walk.”
Armin hums. “I take your knee is better, then.”Â
She tries to focus on anything but the patterns he’s lightly drawing on her skin.Â
“It is. It doesn’t hurt as much.”
“Mhm.” There’s a teasing glint in his eyes that she doesn’t quite like. “I can still carry you.”
Annie lets out a breath of laughter. “There’s no need, really.”
Armin presses his lips together, but says nothing. He only holds her eye, continuing his caress, until his gaze gets too intense for her to hold and her face too hot to bear. A victorious smile blooms on Armin’s lips then.Â
He sits a little straighter, his other hand cupping her face to hold her still, and he captures her lips with his own.
It’s a soft caress, it’s everything she’s been craving all morning. And yet, as he kisses her and holds her close, as if she was everything he needed, Annie feels a pang of guilt nagging her heart much like it did the previous night.
Armin must have read her mind, for he draws back, his brows slightly furrowed.Â
“What is it?”
Annie bites her lower lip, looking away for a second. She can feel Armin’s eyes on her, studying her intensely as if trying to read her mind, and she knows that if she doesn’t let it out now, she never will.
Eventually, she says, “I’m really sorry about last night. That wasn’t fair of me.”Â
Armin’s quiet for a second, and when she faces him, his brows are shot up slightly. She sees it in his eyes when he realises what she’s talking about.Â
“Annie…”
“I mean, I literally blueballed you,” she hurries to add, her face heating up slightly. “It wasn’t fair and–”
Armin takes her hands between his own, tilting his head just enough to catch her eye. When she does meet his gaze, he’s smiling a little smile. “I already told you I don’t care about that.”
Her face softens, yet a part of her is still yelling that he’s lying. A strand of hair falls into her face, too soft from being freshly washed– by his hands no less– to stay where she’s placed it. But she doesn’t bother to put it away, for it hides her from his gaze. She doesn’t think she can face him right now. Not with that turmoil whirling into her heart, not with the knowledge that she’s denied him.
Yet Armin’s voice is soft when he speaks again.
“I just wanted to be close to you,” he tells her, brushing the hair out of her face. “And I don’t think I’ve ever felt closer to you than last night.”
Annie hums, for she felt the same way. It felt like they were the only people left on earth, like the rest of the world had ceased to exist, and her heart had never felt more at ease before.
Yet she still doesn’t dare meet his eyes now.
Armin gently takes her chin between his fingers and lifts her face just enough to make her face him. When she does, there’s such a gentle expression on his face that it takes her a little aback.Â
“That’s enough for me.”
“Is it really?”
“Yes.” He huffs out a little laugh. “And for future reference, sex is not a stepping stone for me.”
Annie snorts a little. Though she cannot ignore the way her heart melts, finally at ease again. “Noted.”
Armin smiles softly, though he’s still searching her eyes. “Is it for you?”
The question catches her a little off-guard, for she didn’t expect the conversation to shift onto her. She shakes her head.
“No.”
“Okay.”Â
His smile only grows, yet he holds her eye a second longer. Armin pecks her lips, short and sweet. But then he peels away, leaving her feeling rather cold.
“We should get going,” he says as he stands up, putting his hand out for her.
Sighing, knowing full well that this was her idea to join them for lunch when she could have just stayed in, Annie takes his hand and lets him help her up. But she doesn’t let him carry her, even though he offers, opting to simply hold onto his arm for support as they slowly make their way to the dining hall.
“Will you really let Hitch dye your hair?”
Annie scoffs. “Just the tips,” she says. “I doubt she’ll get off my back otherwise.”
“Yeah, fair enough.”
She looks up at him, studying his face. His relaxed smile, his sharp jawline. And his hair, having grown a little over the tips of his ears, his bangs just about covering his eyebrows.
Armin narrows his eyes. “What?”
“You could dye your tips, too.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. You’d look good with purple hair.”
“I would not.”
“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes at him, dragging out the motion theatrically. “If I have to dye my hair, you have to dye yours, too.”
“Nobody is making you dye it.”
“Hitch is,” she argues. “And we share a room. Even if I turn her down, she could just do it in my sleep.”Â
Armin opens his mouth to protest, but she doesn’t give him the chance.Â
“Besides, you can just cut it off once camp’s over.”
“Right.”
He holds the door open, and, once inside the dining hall, she waits for him before resuming her walk.Â
“It could be fun,” she says.
Armin rolls his eyes playfully, though his smile doesn’t waver, but before he gets the chance to say anything else, they’re swooped into the dining hall by their campers.
Lunch, as it turns out, is a variety of weird looking soups and a hellish amount of pizza, but the kids devour it all the same. Hitch doesn’t let them sit with their group though, saying that they have important volunteer business to discuss, and drags them away towards their usual table.
The important volunteer business, as it turns out, is her masterplan of dyeing everyone’s hair.
“I don’t want to be part of this,” Floch says, scowling at Hitch.
Hitch freezes in her tracks as if faced with death itself. She slowly turns towards Floch, who’s slowly and very loudly munching on a slice of pizza.
“Well, did I ask you to?”
His scowl somehow only deepens. But Hitch doesn’t seem to care, for she turns right back to the others. Which seems to offend Floch to no limits, for his munching only gets louder.
“Why does he get to opt out and I don’t?” Jeans argues, narrowing his eyes.
“Because you’re part of the group and he isn’t,” Sasha says, shrugging indifferently.
Floch huffs, loudly so, and picks up his plate, leaving their table.Â
“Good riddance,” Hitch mutters.Â
She resumes her talking then, and somehow even manages to convince Jean to dye one strand of hair purple, as long as it’s not a very flashy shade.
“So I’ll go get a brush Saturday morning, after the kids leave,” says Pieck, her voice low so as not to attract any attention.Â
They’re all huddled together over the table, going over their plan one more time.
“Could you buy some food for Dexter, too?” asks Connie, his eyes suddenly going wide. “I think he’s running out.”
Pieck blinks at him, but then she shrugs. “Sure.”
Though Annie’s pretty sure they’ve just gotten the puppy some food on Monday.Â
“And then we’ll just do it in the common room?” Reiner asks, his eyebrows furrowed as if it made no sense to him.
Sasha waves her hand through the air. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Keep up.”
Armin’s eyes widen as if he’s just had a revelation. “Reiner’s right. What if someone passes by the glass door and sees us?”
His line is followed by collective silence. That, they haven’t thought about.Â
“We’ll do it in our room,” Hitch announces.
Annie’s eyes widen. “No.”
Hitch frowns, as if that was the most offensive thing she could have said. “Why not?”
 “Have you seen how small that place is?”
“It’s not that small,” Hitch argues. “We’ll have enough room.”
Annie wants to argue some more, to mention the carpeted floor they could get dirty, or the white vanity they could spoil, but her colleagues soon move on to the next important volunteer business: the camp fire tomorrow night.Â
Which is, arguably, a more pressing matter, yet Annie cannot be bothered to participate in the conversation. As it turns out, they’ve already discussed it over breakfast, so there’s not much for her to bring to the table anyway. They fill her in on all the details, the place, the time, the diplomas they’ll be handing out to the kids– which she only now remembers Armin and her haven’t filled in.
After lunch is officially over and her colleagues take the kids canoeing, Annie decides to see to those diplomas. So she settles comfortably at one of the tables with her pens, puts on some music, and gets started.
“Okay,” she says. “But give me a kiss before you go.”
Armin smiles so brightly then. He leans down, his face just above hers. “A sleep well kiss?”
But he doesn’t wait for an answer, closing the gap between them. His lips are soft against hers, and the kiss rather lazy, but she likes it like that. Like she had all of him, starting with his early mornings.
He's smiling when he pulls back, the sight making her heart melt in her chest. But it’s not enough.
“A good luck kiss,” Annie says.
She’s not sure how much time passes of them just basking in each other’s presence, just kissing and holding each other like lovers reunited. But when Armin buries his face in the crook of her neck, his arms wrapped around her so very tenderly, she finds a notch of curiosity tugging at her chest.
“Do you have any pictures from last year?”
Armin draws away just enough to see her face, a slight frown on his face. She tries to smoothen it away from his face, dragging her fingers over his brows. It does little to help.
“I do.” He searches her eyes for a second, then smiles gently, his face softening with the gesture. “Would you like to see them?”
Annie nods, albeit reluctantly. Armin hums, then peels himself away completely. She finds that she immediately misses his warmth. But he comes back only a moment later, phone in hand, and huddles up next to her.Â
“What would you like to see first?"
She soon finds that Armin has an entire album dedicated to last summer, and many stories to share. She leans her head against his shoulder as he goes through the pictures, humming slightly as he swipes through pictures of them, pictures of the others. Warmth overtakes her as she listens to him reminiscing over the past, and although she might not remember how everything happened, she feels a certain familiarity overtake her as he speaks.
The sun is well up in the sky when Armin swipes to the last picture and wraps up his story.
Annie props herself up a little and studies his face, but before she gets the chance to say anything, there’s a creek behind her, followed by Hitch's voice.
“What are you two up to?”
Armin’s eyes widen slightly, and then he spins around. Annie twists around, her eyes landing on Hitch, who's rubbing her eye at the foot of the stairs, her feet bare against the tile. She’s wearing her pink pjs, and her hair is sticking in all directions, as if she's just woken up.
“Do you know how early it is?”
Annie scoffs, rolling her eyes.Â
“We were just talking,” says Armin, lowering himself into the floor.
Hitch frowns for a second, but then her eyes widen in realisation. Her mouth falls agape, yet she doesn’t articulate any word. She presses her lips together, runs her hands through her hair to smoothen it down, and makes her way to them.
“Did you tell her?” She sits on the coffee table.
“He did,” Annie says, straightening her back. It cracks a little, though she pays no mind. Next to her, Armin does the same, taking a little distance.Â
Hitch's eyes widen. “And?”
She looks at Annie with such big eyes that she finds herself at a loss of words.
Annie presses her lips together, studying her for a second. She can feel Armin's eyes on her, waiting for her to say something. Yet she’s not sure what– what is she supposed to tell the girl who tricked her into coming back, in the off-chance that she would remember them?
Eventually, she sighs.Â
“Thanks for bringing me back here.”
That will have to do.
Hitch’s face falls for a second, then her eyes get glassy. Annie smiles a little smile.
“I don't remember much. Because of the accident, I think you know about it?”
Her roommate nods, and she hums.
“Well, there’s been something missing ever since then. But I think I found it here. So, thanks for getting me to come back.” She swallows past the lump in her throat. “And sorry for being such a bitch about it this week.”
Hitch snorts, casting her eyes down. She wipes at them, not saying anything. Armin reaches for Hitch’s knee, rubbing it gently, a little smile creeping onto his lips. Hitch giggles again, rubs her nose. Then, she stands up at once and throws her arms around Annie, engulfing her in such a tight hug that it takes her a minute to react. Slowly, Annie puts her arms around Hitch, letting herself enjoy this newfound warmth.
“I'm so glad,” Hitch mutters, tightening her hold on her. “I'm so, so glad you're back.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”
They fall quiet for a little while, but then Hitch detangles herself from Annie's arms and smiles such a wide smile that it’s hard not to smile back.
“I was so worried about how to tell you,” she confesses. “Turns out, all we needed was for you to fuck up your leg real bad.”
Annie snorts, shaking her head briefly. “I would have come around eventually.”
“Yeah, in seven thousand years, maybe.”
Annie rolls her eyes, dragging out the motion. But she finds no sharp remark to throw back at her. For once, her mind is quiet.
“How’s your leg, anyway?” Hitch asks, jumping to the floor. She sits criss-crossed next to Armin, letting her shoulders relax.Â
Annie sighs, looking at her knee, propped up on that pillow. The way the bandages and the blanket rub against her skin feels a little weird, but it doesn’t hurt as bad.
“It’s okay. They’re taking the stitches out next week, and I’m on bed rest until then.”
“Damn, that’s a bummer,” Hitch cringes. “What with the kids and all…”
“I can handle the kids,” Armin says, waving his hand through the air. “You just rest.”
Her face heats up. “Thanks.”
Hitch frowns. “You’ll miss canoeing. And capture the flag.”
She makes the mistake of locking eyes with Armin, who’s wearing such a subtle smile.Â
“I’m sure she’s got enough of canoeing,” he says, his voice playful.Â
Annie’s face warms up then. Images of that night they went canoeing playing before her eyes. She can almost feel the heat of his skin against hers, the way he held on to her. The intensity of his gaze when he told her he loved her.
There’s a teasing glint in his eye, as if he were having the time of his life reminding her of all their shenanigans.Â
“One could never get enough of canoeing! It’s truly tragic.” Hitch shakes her head dramatically, yet her smile only widens.Â
She turns to Annie at once, her eyes glistening with the excitement of a memory.Â
“Did he tell you how pathetic he was after leaving camp?”
Annie raises an eyebrow at him, noting the color spreading onto his cheeks. Then, she turns to Hitch.
“He didn’t.”
Hitch grins such a mischievous grin, it’s hard not to mirror it.Â
“Oh, you’re in for one hell of a story.” But before she dives into it, she turns to Armin, and her grin soon fades away. “Unless you don’t wanna tell her. I wouldn’t blame you, that was embarrassing.”
Armin snorts, his face melting into a smile. “No, it’s okay.” He looks up at Annie, studying her expression briefly, then says, “I was just thinking that it might be a little too much to take in for one day.”
Hitch hums, regarding Annie with searching eyes. Their gazes on her become too much then, and she finds herself nearly crumbling under the intensity of them. She averts her eyes, sinking further into the couch.Â
Though she must admit, it does feel like a little too much for right now.Â
“You can tell me later,” she shrugs, trying to keep her voice leveled, but it comes out a little strained. “We've got time.”
Armin hums in agreement, then reaches out for her hand, giving it a little squeeze.Â
“We've got, like, a week and a half,” Hitch says, leaning back on her arms.Â
Annie presses her lips together. Has time really passed her by so fast? It feels like yesterday that she got off that train and Hitch greeted her at the station. It feels like she’s just met everyone a couple days ago, like she’s just been introduced to how camp works. It feels like mere moments ago that she first found Armin’s welcoming arms.Â
“That's plenty of time,” Armin argues, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Yet she cannot help feeling that that’s not nearly enough. She cannot help the anticipation creeping up on her, the impending feeling of missing a part of her soul.Â
Oh, how she wished she could turn time back. How she wished she could go back to two weeks ago, when everything was still right and she hadn’t wasted so much time. How she wished she could have that time back, to bask in the warmth of camp and the warmth of Armin and the comfort of his arms.
“If you say so,” Hitch says, shrugging.Â
A lump forms in Annie’s throat, and she finds herself unable to speak. Her colleagues bicker back and forth about the meaning of time, whereas she finds herself absolutely frozen. How can they be so comfortable with it?
How come she’s so bothered by it? It was supposed to be a simple summer. She was supposed to get on the train and do her job and have good food and go back home, then figure life out. It seemed so simple. So easy.
When did it stop being simple?Â
It might have been when she first went into the dining hall and reunited with the others. Or when they started their preparations for the first group’s arrival. Or was it when she shook hands with Armin on that very first night?Â
Or maybe it was when that silly falling in love montage came into play, or rather, when it started working. Maybe that’s what set everything in motion.
What once seemed so simple is now so close, and yet she finds herself even more confused than in the beginning of summer.
But Hitch’s obnoxious voice snaps her out of her daydreaming.Â
“We ought to make plans for next week.” She’s fully laying on the floor now, her arms sprawled around her.
Annie crosses her arms over her chest, digging her fingers into her forearms in an attempt to stop them from shaking. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said that it’s because of the impending passage of time that her hands are shaking, and not the realization that she’s wasted so much time of her own accord creeping up on her.
“We can just stay in,” Armin tells Hitch.
Yet his eyes are on her, searching hers thoroughly. He offers her a reassuring smile, though it does little to help.
“I'd rather sleep in the whole week than anything,” he adds, his voice betraying no worry.Â
He peels her hand away from her upper arm and holds it in between his own instead, giving it a little squeeze. Annie huffs out a little breath of laughter, and squeezes his hand back, if only slightly. It still takes her aback how he seems to read her mind with so much ease.Â
“And I don’t think Annie can do much with that leg of hers anyway.”
Hitch hums. “Yeah, fair enough.”
“I'll be fine by next Wednesday.”Â
“You'll still need plenty of rest,” Armin argues.Â
She frowns at him. “You know, bed rest doesn’t mean that I have to literally stay in bed the whole time.”
“That’s exactly what it means.”
“No, it’s not. I’d know.”
Armin makes a face at her, but before he can argue, Hitch comes up with her new best idea.Â
“We could all dye our hair purple,” she says, in the same tone as that of someone who's just had a great revelation.
Armin scoffs at that. Annie narrows her eyes, tilting her head to the side. “How do you come up with these ideas?”
“It’s a gift.” Hitch props herself up on her arms, a wide grin on her lips when she meets their eyes. “It would be fun! We could match Hannah for once.”
Annie doubts the host would appreciate that very much, but she doesn’t say it, she lets Hitch go on about her plan and the execution of it. She’s not sure when the time has passed when the others come tumbling down the stairs, whining about breakfast. Dexter is trailing right behind them, wiggling his tail left and right, and is the first one to reach the door. It only takes two barks for Reiner to let him out, and the puppy sprints outside. Reiner soon follows after him and, sitting at the table right outside the door, he lights a cigarette.
“It’s really not fair that we have to wake up this early,” Connie laments as he forces his shoes on, not bothering to undo the laces.
“You wouldn’t be complaining had you gone to sleep at two in the morning,” Jean says, shooting him a glare as he puts on his own shoes. He’s also not bothered to undo his laces.
Sasha sits on the floor, having completely abandoned her shoes. “Why were you until two in the morning?”
Annie’s not sure what he says, for Pieck sits on the coffee table right in front of her, blocking her view.
“How’s your leg?” she smiles.Â
Annie’s really starting to get tired of that question. She looks at Armin in hopes that he’ll get her out of this neverending loop of questions, but finds his spot on the floor vacant. So is Hitch’s. They’re nowhere around the room either, probably having gone up to change.Â
So, she sighs, and gives Pieck an abridged version of her hospital visit.
“But I’m fine, really,” she says when she sees her colleagues’ faces. They’ve all stopped what they were doing to look at her as she spoke, and are now staring at her. She goes to sit up, throwing the blanket aside. “I’m just a little hungry.”
Yet when she goes to stand up, a collective alarm seems to settle amongst the others. Pieck takes hold of her shoulders, eyes blown wide, and blocks her way.
“You can’t just get up and walk with that leg!” she says, making her sit back down.
Annie frowns. “But I'm hungry.”
“We'll bring you something to eat.”
She tries to protest, but Armin and Hitch soon come back down, both dressed for the day. Hitch shoes everyone out, and they’re quick to scatter out. Armin places a book on the coffee table when he goes to kiss her goodbye, and seems to want to linger a little more when Hitch yells his name. So he hurries to join the others, the door swinging closed behind them, and Annie finds herself staring after them through the glass door.Â
She can still hear their voices as they walk away, Dexter trailing after them, his tail ever rocking. She’s going to miss them, and their noise.
Yet she doesn’t let herself linger on the thought. She reaches for the book, finding a blue sticky note right over the title.Â
to fill your time, it reads, in Armin’s neat handwriting. It brings a little smile to her lips.Â
So, Annie makes herself more comfortable and gets to reading. The book– a romcom, as it turns out, which is so very Armin– is an easy read, and she soon finds herself getting lost in it.Â
The only thing that makes her close it is Sasha bringing her breakfast, a variety of mini sandwiches they all threw together for her. They weren’t sure what she’d like, she tells her, then wishes her a good one and leaves in a hurry.Â
Annie returns to her book, nibbling on her sandwiches. She still has a good handful of them when she finishes the book, so she lays back and turns the TV on, trying to fill her time.
It’s halfway through The Desolation of Smaug that the door creaks open. The sun has long set outside, night has replaced day. Dexter is curled up next to her, having fallen asleep sometime between the end of her last movie and now, and is softly snoring. She didn’t even know dogs snored until right now.Â
Annie perches herself up, tilting her head towards the door in anticipation. Her lips pull up at the mere sight of that all too familiar green hoodie.
“Aren’t you supposed to be breaking down on some early 2000s songs?”Â
Armin’s laugh caresses her ears then, making her heart melt in her chest.
“Technically,” he says, a shadow of amusement still present in his voice.Â
He walks over and sits on the floor in front of her, smiling sweetly. Only now does she notice the tupperware he brought in, when he settles it on the coffee table. “But I’d much rather be here. And I brought you dinner.”Â
He hands her the tupperware, and Annie wastes no time in digging in, as the pasta is still warm and cheesy and so perfectly cooked.
“How dare you rob the kids of seeing your dance moves?” she asks between spoonfuls.
He scoffs, shaking his head briefly. “What dance moves?”
“Oh, you know. Your rhythmic walking. I’m sure they would have been impressed.”
“What, that old thing? Do you want me to get bullied by twelve year-olds?”
Annie snorts. “Yes, actually, I’m plotting your downfall.”
He laughs again, his cheeks dusting pink.Â
“Are you now?”
“I live to see Andy pick on you, actually.”
A little laugh escapes Armin’s lips then, and she soon finds herself following into it.
When their laughter calms down, Armin nudges her shoulder. “Just eat your pasta.”
She doesn’t protest, digging into her pasta. Armin settles more comfortably on the floor.
“I didn’t know you were into The Hobbit,” he notes.
Annie shakes her head. “I’m not. I just stumbled across it.”
“How do you like it?”
Annie shrugs. “It’s alright, I guess. Not really my thing.”Â
Armin hums, though he says nothing, too engrossed in the movie.Â
“I liked your book a lot more,” she adds, taking another mouthful of pasta.
Armin twists around just enough to meet her eye, wearing a little smile. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” She abandons the now empty tupperware on the coffee table. “Though the protagonist annoyed me so much at first.”
He scoffs a little. “Yeah, she does that.”Â
Armin reaches out and puts a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “How are you feeling?”
“What, with my leg? It doesn’t hurt as much.”
“That’s good.”Â
He runs his thumb across her cheekbone, his face softening. Annie’s entire being warms at the motion, and she finds herself leaning into his touch. He repeats the motion, looking at her so gently that it makes her heart melt.Â
If she could live in a moment, she’d probably choose this one.
And yet, after a beat of silence, she says, “Could you help me up to my room?”
Armin smiles. “Getting sleepy already?”
Annie quickly shakes her head. For she’s really not, but also, she’d prolong the day for as long as she could if that meant spending some more time with him.Â
“I just need a shower.”
He narrows his eyes. “Can you get your stitches wet, though?”
She presses her lips together, rummaging her mind for the doctor’s instructions.
“Not for the first twenty-four hours,” she recalls.
Armin hums, and fishes his phone out of his pocket, checking the time.
“You came back before eleven last night,” he says. “So you’ve got about thirty more minutes before you can shower.”
Annie scoffs, but then she narrows her eyes at how serious he looks. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“Armin, it’s thirty minutes.”
“Exactly. It’s only thirty minutes,” he argues. “And then you can shower. But let’s not take our chances with your recovery, okay?”
Annie analyses his face, her lips parted in protest. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
“I’m very serious.”
But as much as she tries to fight it, Armin doesn’t back down, insisting that they follow the doctor’s orders through and through. So they reach a compromise– if she has to wait thirty minutes for her shower, then he has to watch the movie with her. They even set an alarm to make sure they do not go over the most necessary twenty-four hours.Â
Yet when the alarm goes off, Armin’s so invested in the movie, hunched over in concentration, that he insists on waiting until the break, to Annie’s great desperation. But it’s not like she can climb four stories by herself with that knee of hers, anyway.
“Have you never seen the movies before?” Annie questions.Â
She reaches her hand out and runs her fingers through his hair. It’s so soft beneath her fingertips, she wonders how it hasn’t broken yet.
His eyes are glued to the screen when he answers. “I did, yet they still amaze me every time.”
It’s only a minute later that the movie is interrupted by the advertisement break and Armin turns to her. She smiles shortly, holding her arms up. Armin picks her up in one swift motion, securing his arms around her.
“Are you sure I’m not too heavy for you?”
“I’m sure.”
She wraps her arms around his shoulders then, and pecks his cheek, which brings a little blush onto his complexion.
It’s only on the fourth step that Annie realises she’s forgotten her key on the table and they have to turn around. But Armin doesn’t seem to mind.
“How have your arms not fallen off yet?” she asks as they round the second floor.
Armin rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling all the same. “I actually do like carrying you, you know.”
Annie’s face warms up, and she hides her face in his shoulder.
“Have you done it before?” she finds herself asking.Â
Armin’s breath hitches briefly, but he doesn’t hide away from her question. Yet his voice is a little strained towards the end, as if it pained him that they were talking about it.
“No. No, I haven’t carried you before this week.”
Annie hums, fisting his hoodie between her fingers.
“I do like it when you carry me,” she mutters. “It feels nice.”
Armin huffs out a little laugh and pecks the crown of her hair. “Yeah, it does.”
It’s only now that she realises that they’ve made it to their floor. She hurries to unlock the door, and it closes behind them with a loud creak as Armin sets her down on her bed.
It’s not until the door is closed that Annie registers her room– the mess she’s left the other day is gone. There’s no clothes thrown around the room, her bed is made and the bedsheets seem to have been changed. She looks over to Hitch’s side of the room, noting a similar change, and makes a mental note to thank her roommate later.
“Do you need help getting in?” Armin asks, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Annie looks up, only to notice that Armin has sat beside her on the bed, a little to the left so as to not invade her personal space. But he’s looking at her so gently, his lips curled in such a kind smile, that she can’t help but melt under his gaze.
“I might,” she admits. But there’s a thought nagging at her brain, a thought she cannot quite push away. Looking away, she says, “But I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”
Armin sighs, the noise brief, but then he takes her hand between his own and gives it a little squeeze. When her eyes return to his face at last, he’s wearing such a kind smile. Yet there’s a slight furrow between his brown that she doesn't quite like.
“I’m not feeling used, Annie.” Her face warms when he says, “I like doing these things with you.”Â
Her chest warms, yet she can almost hear the but in his voice. His smile falters for a second, his gaze flicking to something behind Annie’s head, though she’s pretty sure there’s nothing there. She tilts her head, trying to catch his eye again. There’s something bothering him, she can tell by that frown between his brows, and the lost look in his eyes. She gives his hand a little squeeze, snapping him out of his trace.
“It’s my fault you ended up here, anyway,” he mutters.Â
Annie finds herself freezing for a second– he cannot be serious right now. He can’t be. How could it be his fault that she fucked up her knee?
He clears his throat, shakes his head briefly, and puts on a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “This way I can make it up to you.”
Only then does it click to Annie that, maybe, he’s referring to more than her knee. That it’s the whole summer he’s trying to make up for. How could she not have noticed how much this weighed on his shoulders?
“But you don’t have to make anything up to me,” she mutters.Â
He opens his mouth as if he’s about to protest, but she cuts him off before the words leave his mouth. “All you owed me was the truth, and now I know it. So you don’t have to make anything up to me.”
“But–”
“Armin.” There’s a pleading note in her own voice that she doesn’t quite like. “I don’t want you to spend the rest of the summer trying to prove yourself or anything. I don’t need that.”Â
His eyes widen then, glistening a little as he takes in her words. Annie presses her forehead against his, and he doesn’t fight it, melting into her touch.
“Let’s just try to enjoy the time we have left.” A little smile creeps into her lips, though it tastes a little bitter. “Alright?”
Armin studies her face for a moment more, and she can almost see the wires of his brain working and spinning. His face slowly morphs into one of relief, and there are tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, but he’s wearing such a sincere smile that it makes her heart skip a little beat.
“Okay.”
Annie lets out a little sigh, the pressure in her chest slowly dissipating. She cups his cheek, running her thumb across his complexion.Â
“I’d kiss you right now, but I’m feeling rather filthy.”
Armin lets out a breath of laughter, which pulls a smile on her lips. She hasn't even realised how much she’s missed his laughter. Armin peels himself away.
“Let’s get you that shower,” he says as he stands up.Â
Yet she cannot shake off this need to be close to him, as close as she possibly could.
“Will you join me?”
He freezes a little. He spins around so slowly, for a second she thinks she’s seeing things in slow motion. But his face, red as beetroot and slowly getting redder, lets her know that’s not the case.
“In the shower?” he asks, blinking slowly at her.Â
Annie snorts. “Yes, Armin, in the shower.” She smiles, though it’s not teasing. “I don’t think I can do much… of anything.”Â
She avoids his eyes when she says it, a little embarrassed by her own vulnerability. They haven’t seen each other naked since… well, since before the fight. They’ve never been naked around each other just for the sake of it, nor have they showered together before, but something about the act in itself sounds rather… comforting. Intimate in a way she finds she craves.Â
Only when Armin crooks an eyebrow at her does Annie realise that it’s been more than ten seconds since she’s said anything. Not that she’d know what to say, anyway. But if she’s going to be vulnerable, she might as well go through with it.
“I just want to be close to you.”Â
Armin’s face softens. His voice is gentle when he says, “We can do that.”
Warmth overtakes her entire being, and she lets out a little huff of laughter. Why was she so worried in the first place?
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Let me just grab a change of clothes.”
It’s only a minute later that Armin comes back, with a clean shirt under his arm and a towel, but it feels like an eternity.Â
Annie insists on not being carried this time, despite Armin’s willingness to do so. So instead, she holds onto his arms as she stumbles to the bathroom. Once the door closed behind them, they make quick work of their clothes. There’s a question of what to do with her bandages, and eventually they decide to leave them on and change them later.Â
She sighs when the hot water sprays over her back.
“Is that okay?” asks Armin.Â
His arm is wrapped around her back for support, and with his other hand he’s still adjusting the water. He’s left his glasses on the vanity.
She wraps her arms around his shoulders for support.
“It’s great,” she smiles.
He nods then, and his hand soon settles on the small of her back. Annie finds herself leaning into his touch, her eyes taking in the smoothness of his skin. She’s not sure if it’s the water or the warmth of his body that feels so nice, but maybe it’s both. She’d like to think it’s the latter.
She lets her eyes travel over his body; over his broad shoulders, over his arms, stronger than they look, holding her up as if it were the most natural thing. She drags her hand down his torso, and he sucks in a breath, but he doesn’t back away from her touch. Not as she drags her hand lower and lower until she reaches his naval, nor as she drags it back up and settles it on his shoulder.
When, eventually, she looks up at his face again, searching for his eyes, she finds them running over her body the same way hers were. It makes her even warmer, the way he’s taking her in as if committing her to memory, as if making sure he’s got every tiny detail right. And while his complexion seems to be getting redder a smile slowly spreads on his face.Â
Annie can only mirror it.
His eyes eventually meet hers, and she finds herself a little stunned by the intensity of it. He tucks a wet strand of hair behind her ear, and she nearly melts under his touch when his hand settles on her cheek. But then he smiles, sending her heart racing.
“I love you,” he says, pressing his forehead against hers. “I love you so, so much.”
Annie hums. She’s not sure why, but, even with his skin pressed against hers like this, she craves to be closer. If she could, she would sneak into his ribcage and snuggle up next to his heart, and even then, she fears she would not be close enough.
She resigns herself to rubbing her nose against his instead, eliciting a little huff of laughter from Armin. It pulls a similar sound out of her, too.Â
“I love you, too.”
Armin closes his eyes for a moment, rubbing her back up and down.Â
“We should probably hurry,” he mutters. “So that your leg doesn’t get soaked.”
Annie sighs, but she cannot argue with that. They peel away from each other, and she finds she immediately misses his proximity when he goes to retrieve the bottle of shampoo.Â
But it’s short lived, as he soon comes back. He squeezes a generous amount of shampoo into his palm and starts massaging her scalp. She closes her eyes, focusing on the feeling of his fingers in her hair. The motion is nice, terribly so, and it drags out a little sigh out of Annie. It makes Armin giggle.
Yet, when he goes to rinse her hair, his movements somehow feel too slow, too gentle, as if he were searching for something. It takes Annie a second too long to figure out what it is.Â
She peels her eyes open, finding Armin already looking at her, a little frown between his brows.
“I can show you where it is,” she mutters.
His eyebrows shoot up, almost to his hairline. His hands stop altogether, frozen in her hair. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Annie can’t help but think that he looks exactly like a cat caught liking butter when it wasn’t supposed to.
“I…”
But he doesn’t finish his sentence. He presses his lips together, studying her features briefly, as if trying to read into her soul.Â
Eventually, he nods.
Annie reaches out for his wrist and slowly moves his hand a little to the side, then a little up. She brings her other hand up, too, making sure she’s guided him right, and sure enough there it is– a patch of ragged skin, not as prominent these days.
Armin’s breath hitches when he feels it, and his eyes widen. He looks at her as if making sure he can touch it. Annie nods slightly, pressing her lips together. A little shiver runs through her body when Armin drags his finger across it, though his touch is so gentle, almost feather-like.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she tells him. In part because the silence is starting to dig into her heart, and in part because that frown between his brows has only deepened.Â
Armin drops his hand. She does the same, returning her hands to his shoulders. They fall quiet for a second, but then Armin leans down and pecks the side of her head. It puts her heart at ease.
He washes the rest of her body in silence, though she doesn’t really mind. She’s way more preoccupied by the feeling of his hands over her skin, ever so gentle as they run over her stomach, and her sides, and down her thighs.Â
Armin lowers himself just enough so he could run his hands down her legs, slowly rubbing the soap into her skin. Her fingers dig into his shoulders as he works his way down her thighs and her calves, careful to avoid her bad knee. When he deems it enough and stands up again, his hands are quick to settle on her hips again, holding her upright.
Armin kisses her cheek, making her heart flutter, and she leans into his touch.
“Let’s get out,” he says, a little smile in his voice.
But as he goes to turn the water off, she grabs his wrist.Â
“I want to wash you, too.”
The words slip off her tongue before she can really process them. Armin hesitates for a second, his eyes widening, and his cheeks dust pink. She wants to believe that last part is because of the heat of the shower.Â
“But your leg–”
“I'll be quick,” she hurries to add.Â
Annie smiles as sweetly as she can, her fingers tingling from anticipation.Â
 His face softens, and he returns the smile. “Okay.”
She might as well have won the lottery with how her face lights up. Armin’s hands settle on her hips, holding her up.Â
Annie's heart is beating so fast against her chest that she thinks it might jump up altogether when she reaches up to wash his hair. Armin lets up a little contented sigh when she does, his eyes fluttering closed.Â
She’s such a big liar. She's told him she'd be quick, and yet, as she massages her scalp, she realises just how nice this feels. How nice it feels to have him this close to herself again, how nice it is to have his soft, soft hair between her fingers. How his hands hold onto her ever so lightly, yet they feel like they've been made to fit just there. Like their one true purpose has always been to hold on to her.
It might be her favourite feeling in the whole word.
Or at least she thinks so, until she moves lower. Armin sighs, his expression melting when she runs her hands over his shoulders, then over his arms, and down his chest, his skin burning underneath her touch. It’s just the heat, she tells herself. Yet, when her hands glide over his stomach and he gulps, audibly so, she’s not so sure.
“Don’t go any lower,” Armin mutters.
When his eyes meet hers, there’s such a pleading look in them that she finds herself hesitating briefly. She frowns when his hold tightens on her hips.
And then her eyes glide down, widening when she sees it.
Oh.Â
Oh, but she can’t do that right now.
She’s quick to meet his eye again, her face warm. Armin’s cheeks are dusted pink, too.
“Armin, I’m not sure I–”
“It’s fine,” he mutters. “I’m sorry, just try to ignore it.”
“I can take care of it if you want me to,” she offers. Though the thought alone makes her complexion heat up even more, and she doubts she can pass it as simply the heat of the water.
Yet Armin shakes his head. She searches his eyes, guilt creeping up her spine. She wished she could give him more, she wanted to give him more, but with that knee of hers–Â
Her thoughts are interrupted by Armin pressing his lips to her cheek.
“Let’s get out.”
“Are you sure?”Â
“Yes.” He cups her cheek in the palm of his hand, and when he smiles, her worries melt away. “I don’t care about that, I just want to be close to you. That’s enough for me.”
Annie’s face softens, her heart put at ease. “That’s enough for me, too.”
His smile only broadens. He kisses her other cheek, short and sweet and oh so gentle. When he urges her out of the shower again, she doesn’t protest, letting him guide her out.Â
They make quick work of drying each other off and putting on their clean change of clothes– Armin's Thomas the Engine pjs, and her duckie ones.Â
Then, just as she’s about to ask him to leave her at her own devices as she dries her hair and to wait inside, Armin says, “We should check your knee, too.”
He leans down a little, as if to take a look at it, but she stops him.
“I can take care of it.”
He furrows his brows. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just… give me a minute?”
“Okay.” He straightens up, places a haste kiss to the side of her forehead, and then he’s gone.
Annie tries to be quick, though she takes her time with her knee. The skin there is a little damp when she takes off the dressing, though the bandage held enough to prevent her wound from getting completely soaked. She dresses it again, as best as she can, and moves to quickly washing her teeth and drying her hair.
When she stumbles out of the bathroom, Armin’s laying on her bed, his hands folded over his chest. He perches up when he hears the door, and his face immediately lights up.Â
Annie scoffs, but she guesses she’s not much better herself.Â
Armin scatters to his feet, but as he's about to come over, she gestures for him to stop. He holds her eye for a minute, and she frowns slightly. She takes a tentative step towards him, trying to prove that she's doing fine by herself. Pain shoots through her leg, though it’s not as bad as the other day, and it gets more bearable with every small step she takes. Armin presses his lips together and sits back down, watching her attentively as she makes her way across the room.
“See?” she says when she sits next to him. “I can handle myself.”Â
Yet her breathing is a little strained, and her leg aches.
But Armin smiles all the same. “I never doubted that.”
Her chest warms when he brushes her hair behind her ear. He’s smiling at her oh so softly, she finds herself getting lost in the sight of it. She wishes she could freeze this moment in time, relish in his proximity and his warmth and the comfort of his smiles.Â
But then she leans over, brushing her lips over his ever so lightly.Â
That'd be an even better moment to freeze into time.Â
That, or when Armin kisses her back with all the eagerness of a starved man. She smiles against his lips when he cups her jaw, holding her in place, yet she’s quick to match his pace, and his desperation.Â
But that was supposed to be her kiss. She wanted to take the lead, to guide it in whatever direction she'd desire.
She cups his face in her hands, angling her head a little to the side as she takes the lead. Armin sighs against her lips, yet he doesn’t protest. His other hand settles on her hip, and he tugs her closer ever so lightly, and–
Annie takes in a sharp inhale when a new wave of pain shoots through her leg. It breaks her away from him.
She puts her hand over her knee and slowly rubs it in an attempt to soothe the pain away, but it does very little to help.
Armin frowns momentarily before realising what he did. “Oh, Annie, I'm so sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
But she can see it on his face that he does.
“Here,” she says, reaching for his hand. She places it where hers previously was, smiling shortly at the warmth it gives off. “That's a little better.”
Armin’s eyes widen, but then his expression softens. His eyes travel to her knee, settling on his hand on the bandage there. He grazes her skin with his thumb, his lips curling up in a small smile.
Weirdly enough, his palm seems to take the slight pain away. But she doesn’t tell him that, choosing to soak in his warmth instead.
A beat of silence passes between them. And although it’s the comfortable kind, she finds herself filling it.
“You know, I start uni in October,” she says.Â
Armin’s eyes narrow a little, but then he turns to her with a smile, realisation slowly washing over his face.
“Yeah?”
Annie hums, holding his eye. “So we still have a month after camp.”
His face softens in a way she's not quite seen before. “We do.”Â
A little plan starts articulating in her mind. Annie goes to lay down, and Armin soon follows, making sure to tuck the blanket over both of them. When he settles on his side next to her, she turns her head just enough to meet his eye.Â
Armin hums, his eyes not leaving hers as he ponders it. She brings her hand over his in the space between them, intertwining their fingers. It still strikes her how well their hands fit together, as if having been made to hold each other.
“So I could visit you now,” she mutters. It feels a little strange to word it out loud, for the thought has been bothering her all day, yet she has to carry on with it. For her heart's sake; and maybe for his own, too. “And you could visit during the year.”
A smile breaks into his face. He doesn’t hesitate when he says, “I would love that.”
“Yeah?”
He nods, beaming at the idea. He leans over, capturing her lips again, and again, until she’s engulfed in the scent of him and the warmth of his touch.Â
And she thinks then, that there’s no place she would rather be.
But she’s way more preoccupied with whoever’s walking through the door. Her lips pull up at the mere sight of that all too familiar green hoodie.
“Aren’t you supposed to be breaking down on some early 2000s songs?”
Armin’s laugh caresses her ears then, making her heart melt in her chest.
“Technically,” he says, a shadow of amusement still present in his voice. “But I’d much rather be here.”
Annie rolls her eyes theatrically, though her complexion warms up all the same.
“How dare you rob the kids of seeing your dance moves?”
He scoffs, shaking his head briefly. “What dance moves?”
“Oh, you know. Your rhythmic walking. I’m sure they would have been impressed.”
“What, that old thing? Do you want me to get bullied by twelve year-olds?”
Annie snorts. “Yes, actually, I’m plotting your downfall.”
And happy new year! May it be a kind one 💛✨️
The lights of the Big House are turned off when Annie gets back from the hospital.Â
Hannah stops the car upfront, and she waits until the engine is turned off to open the door. She attempts to push herself up when a sting of pain shoots through her leg, and she falls back onto the passenger’s seat.Â
“Don’t push yourself,” Hannah says.Â
Next thing she knows, the host is right next to her, offering her her arms for support. Annie gladly takes them, muttering a thanks.
Getting to the door proves to be close to a Herculean task, what with the stitches in her knee. The doctor told her to try to move as little as possible the next following days, and not put any pressure on her injured leg. He’s suggested she spend the night there, to be kept under observation, but she’s refused– the smell of the hospital alone was driving her insane, she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. So she asked to be discharged, and was sent home with three stitches in her knee, a handful of painkillers, and a check-up scheduled in six days’ time.Â
But when she opens the door, her eyes widen as she realises that not all of her colleagues listened when she told them not to wait for her.
Perched up on the couch is Armin, with what looks like the blanket Pieck’s made over the summer draped on his shoulders. His eyes meet hers, and widen the slightest bit.
“You’re back,” he says, the slightest of smiles pulling on his lips.Â
He rises to his feet and hurries to her side, grabbing her elbow. His hand is gentle, and so very warm on her bare skin. Annie finds herself leaning her weight on him, but he doesn’t protest.
“What did the doctor say?”
“She should abstain from physical effort for the time being,” Hannah says, before Annie even begins to register his words.
His eyes glide over her features, as if studying her. “But are you alright?”
“Yeah.”
They help her onto the couch, and Annie lets go of them. She sinks into the cushions, letting her head fall back against the soft cushion with a sigh. Her eyes fall closed, her mind clouding– is it the meds making her feel so floaty? The host mumbles something about the stitches in her knee, but her voice is so muffled and so distant…Â
Oh, is that Armin? He sounds like honey. He sounds like a warm hug on a rainy day. Oh, if she could live in a sound…
A hand touches her shoulder, making her flinch. Her eyes snap open, and she’s met with Hannah’s face, inches above hers. Her purple hair sways above her, and the scent of raspberries soon invades her nostrils.Â
“Annie? Did you hear what I said?”
Annie narrows her eyes at her, taking in the expression on her face– the furrowed eyebrows, her lips tightly pressed together. She doesn’t reply right away.
“Are you okay to spend the night downstairs?” the host asks, straightening up. “So that you don’t force yourself up the stairs and down again in the morning.”
“Okay.”
“Hitch brought down a clean change of clothes for you,” Armin says, and that’s when she notices the little pile on the coffee table.
“Thanks.”
“I can bring you some beddings so you’d be more comfortable,” he offers.
She hums, sinking further into the couch. Armin nods, and then he’s quick to sprint up the stairs. Annie cranes her neck back, following him as he disappears behind the wall.
Hannah helps her out of her dirty clothes and into the new ones. It’s a plain light pink tee and some shorts, but she finds them way more comfortable.
“Do you want something to eat?” Hannah asks, squatting in front of her.
Annie shakes her head. Bile sits at the base of her throat, and she fears that eating anything would just make it come up faster. The host hesitates for a second, but then she sighs, and nods her head.Â
“Okay.”
“Just let me know if you need anything during the night, okay? I’m like five minutes away.”
When Armin makes it back with a set of clean sheets, him and Hannah waste no time in turning the couch into an as comfortable of a bed as they possibly can. Soon, the sad couch in the living room is turned into a makeshift bed. Annie lays down in it, a little sigh slipping past her lips when her head hits the pillow. She winces when she straightens her leg, but soon finds that bending it hurts even more.Â
But then Armin takes hold of her leg, his hand gentle, and lifts it the tiniest bit. When he lets it down again, her leg rests on something soft, like a pillow, which feels a little better.
“Will you be alright for the night?” comes Hannah’s voice, though she can’t locate it.
“We got this,” says Armin.Â
Annie hums and forces her eyes to focus on them, only to find two pairs of eyes studying her closely. She frowns.
“What?”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Hannah offers, in a voice that, albeit kind, lets her know this is her last call.
“Yeah.”
Hannah sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Okay then.” She turns to Armin, grabbing his shoulder. “Call me for anything.”
“Okay.”
Once the door closes behind the host, Armin kneels in front of her, his face coming into view. He tucks the blanket under her chin, and the tip of his finger brushes against her chin only briefly, but it’s enough to send her skin on fire. He goes to retrieve his hand, but before he can, she wills her own hand up and grabs his wrist. Though her grip is weak, and her eyes are getting blurry.
But he gets it, and his voice is soft when he speaks. “What is it?”
“Stay with me,” she mutters.
Armin’s face softens. He settles more comfortably on the floor, smiling gently at her. “I’m not going anywhere.”Â
Annie attempts a smile, letting her face relax. He brushes the hair out of her face, studying her complexion as if trying to make a decision. Then, he pecks her forehead, soft and sweet and short. But it’s enough to make her heart flutter and skip a beat, and her face to heat up.Â
Only now does she realise just how much she’s missed having him this close, how much she’s missed his touch. If she could, she would bask in it for the rest of her life.
But he doesn’t linger. As soon as he draws back, she’s hit with the coldness of their reality, and everything hanging heavy between them.
“We should talk,” she says, barely above a whisper, somewhat afraid that, if she spoke any louder, it would become too much.
Armin hums, running his fingers through her hair. The motion is so soothing, she finds it hard to keep her eyes open.
“Try to get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”
She wants to protest, to tell him that they’ve been putting this off for way too long and time is running thin. She wants to tell him that every second of this purgatory they’ve both created is making her heart hurt, ache with longing, that she cannot bear one more second of it.Â
But when she opens her mouth, no sound comes out. Her ears ring, and her throat runs dry, her vision getting blurrier. And before she knows it, her eyes drop shut and she dozes off.
It's the ring of her phone that wakes her up. Her eyes snap open, and she looks around in a panic, squinting at the dark to find her phone. Next to her, Armin stirs awake. He shakes his head, squints at her slightly, and stirs towards the coffee table.
“I think it’s mine,” she mumbles, still half asleep.
He hands the phone to her, and, sure enough, it’s her father. She accepts his call and sinks further into the blanket.
“Hi, dad.”
He starts talking right away, his voice stern, yet a little worried.
“Annie, what the hell happened? The camp manager called me a while ago and told me you were in the hospital?”
“Yeah, yeah, I…” she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. Armin reaches out for her hand and squeezes it lightly, giving her a little reassuring smile. “I fell during the hike and cut my knee open.”
“What?!”
“But it’s fine, the doctors said I should be fine in a week's time.”
There’s a pause as her father takes in the information, and then he sighs, a dragged out sound. “Do you want me to come get you?”
“No, it’s fine. They’re taking good care of me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” A headache creeps up on her, and she drops her head in her hands. “Listen, can I call you tomorrow? I'm really tired.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah.” Then, after a pause he adds, “Are you sure you're okay?”
“Yes, dad.”
“Okay. Good night, then.”
“Bye, dad.”
She waits until she hears the beep of the phone, and then hands it back to Armin, who places it on the table.
He caresses her face, smiling softly; but there’s a frown between his brows that she doesn’t quite like. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She sighs. “I just want to sleep,” she mutters.Â
And she guesses her face is quite telling, too, for he drops it and tucks her back in. She falls asleep under Armin’s soft caresses, engulfed in his warmth.
Annie's not sure how long she's slept, but when she opens her eyes it’s still dark inside, save for a few rays of the early sun peeking through the curtains.Â
She's warm, so, so warm, and she’s so very tempted to simply go back to sleep. But there’s a comfortable weight on her shoulder, too heavy to be the blanket. When she peels her eyes open, she finds Armin cuddled by her side, his head resting on her shoulder. He’s sprawled on the floor in what looks like the most uncomfortable position one could sleep in. His glasses are askew, all tangled up in his hair. But he's wearing such a soft expression, his features relaxed like they haven't been in days. As if he were at peace, as if simply being by her side again finally put his mind at ease.Â
A smile blooms on Annie's lips, and her heart warms in her chest, so subtle and so sudden that it takes her aback. She adjusts a little, shifting her weight slightly on her side, careful not to move her bad leg too much. She brings a hand to Armin’s hair, running her fingers through the soft strands. The motion makes him flinch slightly. He wakes up with a sharp inhale, for a second looking disoriented. Until his eyes land on her, and his face soon relaxes. He fixes his glasses, then straightens up a little.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” His voice is low, and so soft. When he cups her cheek, she can't help a blush. “Did you sleep well?”
Annie hums, finding herself leaning into his touch. “I did. And you? That didn't look like a comfortable position to sleep in.”
Armin huffs out a little laugh. “I did, don't worry about me.”
She swallows, a little too hard for her own liking. She pushes herself up, adjusting her leg as she sits more comfortably. “You didn't have to wait here all night. You could have gone to your room.”
Armin shakes his head briefly. “I wanted to. In case you needed anything during the night.”
Her face warms up, and for a second she has to fight the urge to kiss him right then and there. But then she sighs. “You still owe me an explanation. About last summer.”
Armin looks a little taken aback, but then he fixes his face.Â
“Right.”Â
He rightens his glasses, runs his hand through his hair, and straightens his back. It cracks loudly, making her jerk.Â
“Do you want to tell me what you remember? I think it’d be easier that way.”
Annie nods, leaning her head back against the cushion. “I remember your face.” She narrows her eyes, digging through her memory. “But you had different glasses, I think.”
He hums, prompting her to go on. Annie presses her lips together, studying his features. They don't betray any emotion, if anything he looks unusually calm.Â
“And I remember… or I think I remember,” she frowns, “that you tripped on something, during that hike we did. I think I patched you up.”
A little chuckle escapes his lips. “You were so pissed about it,” he recalls.
Annie huffs. “Sounds like me, yeah.”
“Do you remember anything else?”
Annie presses her lips together, racking her memory. But nothing comes to mind, so she shakes her head.Â
“No. That whole summer is rather blurry.”
Armin hums, but then he presses his lips together, as if unsure of how to start.Â
So instead, Annie asks, “Were you here for open day?”
That would make sense, she thinks. Since he wasn’t in uniform in the pictures her father sent, he must not have been volunteering. Armin’s slight nod is confirmation enough.
“Yeah. I was Eren’s guest.”
The name has such a familiar ring to it, though she's unsure whether it's because she's heard him talk about the guy this summer or she's actually remembering the previous one.Â
“Who?”
“Eren. Wait, I’ll show you a picture.”Â
Armin reaches for his phone, frowning at his screen as he looks for one. Then, he angles the phone towards her, and there he is, a much younger and much smilier version of himself, with a horrid pair of rectangular glasses. Next to him, with his arm draped around his shoulder, is the same boy as in the picture her father sent. He’s showing his teeth to the camera, a sparkle dancing in eyes green as emeralds. His hair is sticking to his forehead as if he’d been running, his orange shirt is dunked in sweat, and in his other hand he’s holding a blue flag from Capture the Flag. In the background, she can see Sasha and Connie, arms thrown in the air as if protesting something. And herself, on the bench with Hitch, the red flag hanging on the table.
“That's Eren,” Armin says, pointing at the boy next to himself.Â
Annie nods, squinting at his face. He looks so awfully familiar.
“He loved camp. He used to come here every summer since middle school.”
Armin studies her face, as if making sure she's following.Â
“It was his and Hitch's idea to come back this year and bring everyone together,” he adds, his voice low, calculated.Â
Annie frowns. For a second, she wants to ask where he is then, why is Eren not here if it was his idea in the first place. But then–
“Is he your friend that went missing?” she asks, remembering what he told her the night they went canoeing.
Armin nods, and his expression seems to darken only a little, as if the mere mention of it hurt him. It makes her want to take it back, to tell him to just forget she even asked, for it seems too much to bear.Â
But before she can, Armin draws in a breath of fresh air, and he tells her anyway.
“Eren loved camp, he loved the freedom it gave him. He… he really wanted to get everyone here one last time before college, so we could have fun together and enjoy our last carefree summer, I guess.” A little smile blooms on his lips, though it looks a little strained. “He talked about it so much, our last great adventure together. Mikasa was going to go back to Hizuru for uni, I was going to leave for Odiha, and he… well, he didn’t have much of a plan.” He lets out a little huff. “He wanted to get a job somewhere and move out, he would have figured everything out afterwards.”
“So he got everyone to join,” she guesses.
“Well, no. He got Hitch to join. She did most of the convincing work with the others.”
Annie scoffs. “Right.”
But then, if this was Eren’s masterplan, where is he?
As if reading her mind, Armin says, “But things weren’t going well at home. His father was so set on sending him to medical school, to follow in the family footsteps.” A frown appears between his brows. “They’d fight about it so much. Sometimes, when it’d get really bad, he’d come over to my house and spend the night, or however much he needed until things cooled off. It used to drive my grandfather a little mad, but he always kept the door open for him. Such a poor soul, he’d say, he needs a safe space. I guess I was glad that he could find that in our home. That he knew he could always come over for a little peace.”
Armin clenches his jaw then, swallowing hard. “But I guess that wasn’t enough.”
Annie presses her lips together, anticipating the next part. That part of the story she already knows. She knows it pains him to even think about it. She wants to reach out her hand and caress that frown off his face, to take all his pain and sorrow away, but she knows she can’t.Â
It’s not the kind of pain that can be taken away. It cries to be felt.Â
“One day, mid-February, we got the news,” Armin says, his voice low. “It was so random. Him and Mikasa and I had just been to the movies the day before and he’d seemed fine. We’d had so much fun. He said something about his dad driving him insane on our way back, but that was it. And in the morning, the news about him leaving in the middle of the night came out.” He pauses a little, bites his bottom lip as if stopping it from trembling. “His mother came over to ask if he was at my place, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t at Mikasa’s, either. He’d left his phone and ID and all his things and just vanished with the clothes on his back.”Â
Armin drops his face in his hands, massaging his temples. “They filed a missing person case, and the authorities searched for a while. There were posters everywhere. Search parties every night. There’s a river cutting right through the middle of our town, they even searched there.”
A shiver runs down Annie’s spine. Did he…?Â
She reaches out her hand, touching his shoulder lightly for whatever little comfort she could offer. “Armin…”
“They didn’t find anything.”Â
Armin looks at her, and only now does she notice the tears brimming in his eyes. But he doesn’t let them fall.Â
“His birthday was at the end of March, and he turned eighteen, so they stopped the search. Said he was officially an adult and could choose whether to come back or not out of his own free will.”
Annie narrows her eyes. “That’s…”
“It drove his mother insane,” he cuts her off. “It drove all of us insane. Mikasa never went back to Hizuru, she failed her SATs. I barely passed. I have no idea how his father pushed through all of that and just carried on with his life.”
Annie hums lightly, unsure of what to say. What can she say? That she’s sorry? That never did anything.
“What do you think happened to him?”
Armin takes in a deep breath, then lets it out through his nose. “I don’t know. I was hoping I’d find him here,” he confesses. He runs a hand through his hair and forces a smile on. “For a while, I thought that maybe he’d just left for camp early.”
“Maybe he’s still out there,” Annie offers. Though she doubts it’s much comfort.
Armin frowns at an indefinite point on the floor, as if searching for answers. She wonders what might be going on in his mind, behind those storms in his eyes, but she doesn’t dare ask. Instead, she just caresses his shoulder, runs her fingers through his hair, in hopes that it brings at least a little comfort.Â
Eventually, Armin sighs, dropping his shoulders. When he looks back at her, he’s wearing a smile, small, yet genuine.
“He has to be.”Â
But that’s all he says on the matter, and she knows not to push. He’s already told her enough.
Instead, he settles more comfortably, leaning his head back against her tight and extending his legs in front of himself. And he tells her about last year.Â
He tells her about Mikasa and him coming to camp by train for open day. About their endeavors that day. How he met everyone and how friendly they all were, the preparations for the hike, and how he got the most embarrassing crush on her– that’s why he fell, he was busy looking at her instead of where his feet went.Â
Annie scoffs, but she tries to suppress it when she notices the slight pink creeping up his cheeks.Â
“Sorry,” she says, covering her mouth. But she can’t help the little laugh slipping past her lips.
Armin pouts, which makes it only harder not to laugh.Â
“I was young, okay?”
She laughs. “That’s not–”Â
But her mind works faster than her, and before she knows it she’s formed another thought. It leaves the tip of her tongue before she can truly think it through.
“Wait, so you got me back because of a stupid crush? That’s it?”
“Well, no. If only you'd let me finish my story instead of making fun of me,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head briefly. He makes such a show of it, too, dragging out the motion as much as he can.Â
Annie rolls her eyes, dragging out the motion in the same dramatic way as he’s done his words. “By all means, do go on.”
Armin shakes his head briefly, but he smiles all the same.
“We were supposed to leave that evening,” he continues. “But there was a strike, and our train got cancelled. So Marie let us stay the night, and as long as it took for us to find a way home.
On that first night we spent here, Hitch came up with the idea of playing Seven Minutes in Heaven. So we all sat in the living room,” he gestures around himself, and Annie can almost picture the bunch of them, “and Reiner somehow found some booze, and we kept spinning that bottle until we got wasted. I can’t remember the whole of it, but at some point, that bottle pointed at me. Everyone started cheering, as if they’d just won the lottery. When I looked up, the other end of it was pointing at you.”
At this, Armin meets her eyes. Her eyes widen slightly, warmth overtaking her whole body. A blush creeps up Armin’s cheeks, but he doesn’t avert his gaze, holding her eyes, searching them so thoroughly that she feels her entire face burn.Â
Then, a smile pulls on his lips. “You had a similar reaction back then.”
Annie sinks into the couch, looking to the side at some indefinite spot on the floor. “So what, we ended up making out in some closet?”Â
She tries to sound as nonchalant as possible, but she’s pretty sure her face gives her away, for Armin only snorts. Yet when she steals a glance at him, he’s wearing such a gentle smile that her heart aches.
“In the kitchen,” he corrects, nodding towards the door of it. “Though it was different back then, the furniture was dull and old and the door wasn’t closing all the way. I’m pretty sure Eren was peaking through the crack of it, though he’d never admit it.”
Annie buries her face in her hands, groaning slightly. The mental image of someone peaking in on her making out with anyone sends a wave of embarrassment through her, and the fact that it was Armin she was doing it with of all people somehow only makes it worse.Â
Which he must find absolutely hilarious, for he chuckles.Â
“This is the least funny situation, Armin,” she groans.
He rubs her shoulder, and to his grace he stops laughing. “If it helps, you did berate me for being clumsy before kissing me.”
She lowers her hands, though her face is still burning. “I kissed you first?”
“Yeah.”Â
But he’s not looking at her, staring at that door instead. That smile of his is still adorning his face, albeit a little faded, and there's something in his eyes that she cannot quite name. Something like grief, and she knows then that the events of the previous summer must be unfolding before his eyes. As she watches him, her eyes widen in realisation.Â
Maybe it wasn’t just a silly summer crush. It couldn’t have been, not with the way he seems to break just recalling it.
“There’s more to it, isn’t there?”
Armin sighs, and his shoulders drop. He turns around to face her, and holds her eye when he says, “We had a fling. A very short one, Mikasa and I left after a few days when the strike ended.” His jaw clenches briefly as he swallows. “But it was good, I think. The more time we spent together, the more you opened up to me, the more I fell for you, and before I knew it, I was…”Â
He swallows, squeezes his eyes together, stopping his words at once. Annie presses her lips together, a knot forming in her throat. She reaches for his shoulder, trying to bring some comfort, but Armin flinches away. Her hand falls on the cushion.
When he opens his eyes again and faces her, there’s such a sorrowful expression on his face that it makes a pang tug at her heart.
“But you don’t remember any of it, do you?”
She tries, she really does. She’s been trying all week. But every time she searches through her memory, it’s like someone has built a wall between her and that summer, her and the memories of him, her and everything stretching back to the beginning of that year. As if one full year of her life has been deleted, leaving behind only traces, not big enough to piece anything together.Â
For the longest time, she’s thought that that was okay. It was just one year. A small price to pay, considering the gravity of her situation.Â
And for the first time since the accident, she finds herself wishing, praying to whoever was up there, that she would have it back.
Annie swallows past the lump in her throat. How could she break his heart all over again?Â
She shakes her head briefly. “I’m sorry.”
Armin’s face seems to break all over again. His eyes fill with tears, and this time he’s not quick enough to stop them. His voice is ragged when he speaks, barely above a whisper.
“Annie, what on Earth happened to you?”
She parts her lips, but then presses them back together, for she doesn’t quite know what to tell him. She doesn’t quite know how to tell him about the accident when she’s not even sure of what happened herself. When all she can remember is the months spent in the hospital after the fact, and all the pain and the agony that followed.
“Did we talk after that?” she asks instead.
Armin pauses for a second, his mouth slightly agape. He lowers his gaze, playing with his fingers in his lap, and nods.Â
“We exchanged numbers,” he says at last. “We talked for a while, we would talk all day long every day, and at some point we made plans to meet during the holidays.”Â
Annie hums, taking in his words. They must have gotten serious, with the way he talks about it.Â
If only she could remember. If only her mind would work with her for once.
“But then you vanished.” He tightens his fist. “You just vanished one day, and as much as I tried to get through to you, I just couldn’t. My calls would go straight to voicemail, and–”
“Was that some time in November?” she cuts in.Â
Her heart beats against her chest so fast that she thinks it might break free any moment now.Â
Armin stops as if frozen. He slowly looks up, and when his eyes meet hers, they are so wide she thinks they might pop off his orbits. Slowly, he nods, his lips slightly parted.Â
And her heart breaks all at once.
For that’s when the accident happened.Â
A rainy mid-November day. It was dark, and the road was slippery, and her father was yelling at her about something she cannot quite recall, but if she focuses really hard on the memory, she can almost see his lips forming a name. She can almost feel the anger she must have felt back then, the feeling that her plans were falling through. What she’s sure of, however, is the deafening sound of metal crashing against metal.
Her phone was destroyed in the crash.
Annie drops her head in her hands, rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers.Â
“That’s when the accident happened. I was arguing with my father, I could never remember why, but I think it was about you.”
She doesn’t dare meet his eyes. A headache creeps up on her so very tentatively, and then it takes over so fiercely. Annie squeezes her eyes shut, chasing away the horrific images of that night, the pain overtaking her body all over again. Her head, pulsing so hard that she feared it’d explode.
You’re okay now, she tells herself, taking in a deep breath.Â
It’s over now.Â
She exhales the air through her nose, so very slowly, trying to ground herself.
Armin’s hand comes down on her shoulder, light as a feather and hesitant like never before. It calms her racing heart, if only a little.
“I hit my head against the wheel,” she tells him, still rubbing her forehead. “Which caused a brain bleed.”Â
He draws in a sharp breath, as if finally knowing what went wrong pained him deeply. “Annie–”
But she stops him, for her eyes are starting to well with tears, and she fears that if she doesn’t let it out now, she never will.
“When the doctors went in to fix it, they nicked the part of my brain responsible for my memories. I couldn’t even remember who I was for a while. But they said it would all come back with time.”Â
She peeks through her fingers, at Armin sitting by her side, at his lips pressed together so tightly that they’ve turned white, and the tears silently rolling down his face. Annie swallows past the lump in her throat and reaches out for his face, cupping his cheek in her palm and wiping the tears away. They’re replaced by new ones in no time, but Armin leans into her touch all the same.
“I always felt like something was still missing,” she mutters. “I suppose that was you.”
“I’m so sorry, Annie,” he mutters. “For what I said in that forest. I had no right to say any of that.”
“I’m sorry, too.” She swallows past the lump in her throat, peels her hand away, bringing it over her other hand in her lap. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
But Armin shakes his head. “How could you not? I’d hidden so much for you.” He presses his lips together, lowering his gaze as if trying to hide from her sight. “But I didn’t know. I didn’t know about the accident until you told me in July.”
Annie smiles a bitter smile. “Did you just think I was pretending not to recognize you?
He lets out a huff. “No. No, I just– by the time I realised something must have been wrong with you, it was too late–”
“Too late for what?”Â
Armin’s breath hitches. Annie squeezes her eyes shut, then sighs, leaning back against the cushion. Â
“You had no right to keep all of that from me,” she says.Â
“I know.”Â
She presses her lips together, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Does he really know though?
But before she can berate him any longer for it, another thought occurs to her.
“Where did the montage come from anyway?”Â
He sighs and closes his eyes. “It came on the spur of the moment, really. I guess I just wanted to experience falling in love with you again.”
Annie huffs. She closes her eyes, letting her shoulders relax and her mind wander. It sounds just like him.
Eventually, she says, “Well, it worked. I did fall irreversibly in love with you, you know. So we’ll have to get over ourselves and work this out.”
Armin’s eyes widen, and his lips are slightly parted when he looks back at her. But then his face softens, and he sighs, his shoulders dropping.Â
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I mean, if you want to,” he adds, furrowing his brows.Â
“Of course I would want to,” she mutters. “I–” but she stops herself, not very sure what to even tell him. “My mind might not know you very well,” she says, slowly, holding his eye as she chooses her words, “but I think my heart does. And my heart hurts for you.”
Something she cannot quite name transverses his eyes then. He pushes himself up and sits next to her, then cups her hands in his own. Annie finds herself staring up at eyes deeper than the ocean, warmth overtaking her entire being as Armin runs his thumb over her knuckles.Â
“It doesn’t have to hurt anymore. It never has to hurt ever again.”
She swallows past the lump in her throat, letting her face soften. “Okay.”Â
Armin nods, a smile pulling at his lips, and Annie finds herself mirroring it.Â
It’s only after a moment that she says, “You can kiss me now.”
He smiles, a genuine smile, a relieved one, and pecks her cheek. As if having a mind of their own, Annie’s hands cup his face, and the motion must have been a little sudden, for his eyes widen, pink dusting his cheeks slightly.Â
“I meant on the lips, Armin.”
He chuckles, but before she has time to process it fully, or come back with another retort, his lips find hers. The first kiss is short, and oh so delicate, and she sighs against his touch, letting her eyes flutter closed. Before she knows it, he draws back, his face flushed, a shy smile on his lips.Â
“I missed you,” he mutters. His arms wrap around her middle, bringing her closer, and he pecks her lips again. “I missed you so, so much.”
Annie hums, and although she’s not sure if he’s referring to this past week alone or all of the previous year, she says it back. Because she’s missed him, too, and she doubts she could have taken one more day apart from him.
Once the door closes behind the host, Armin kneels in front of her, his face coming into view. He tucks the blanket under her chin, and the tip of his finger brushes against her chin only briefly, but it’s enough to send her skin on fire. He goes to retrieve his hand, but before he can, she wills her own hand up and grabs his wrist. Though her grip is weak, and her eyes are getting blurry.
But he gets it, and his voice is soft when he speaks. “What is it?”
“Stay with me,” she mutters.
Armin’s face softens. He settles more comfortably on the floor, smiling softly at her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Annie presses the phone between her ear and shoulder, struggling to put her hiking boots on. Had she woken up only ten minutes earlier, she would have had time to properly get ready and call her father. Their chats aren’t usually that long anyway. Instead, she chose to sleep in– and now her room is a mess, her bed is unmade, and she’s pretty sure her socks aren’t matching.
“Yes, I'll be back before ten. It's a short hike,” she says, finally getting her second foot in.Â
“Your hikes are never short,” her father says pointedly.Â
Annie rolls her eyes. “Well, it’s not that long either.”
She runs a hand through her hair, combing it with her fingers as she rummages through her drawer; where did she put that camera anyway? Hannah will kill her if she’s lost it.
“I need to hang up, I think I'm late.”
She can hear the man click his tongue almost dismissively, but for a second he says nothing.
“You know, I was cleaning the house last night.”
Annie narrows her eyes– oh, there’s the camera. On her nightstand, right under her hoodie, glistening a little in the precarious light.
“Yeah?”Â
She checks if the camera is charged, then drops it in her backpack.Â
“And I found this box of pictures from your last camp,” her father carries on.Â
Annie narrows her eyes, but says nothing.
Her father falls quiet for a second, as if he were looking at the pictures right now, reminiscing about the past. “I know you weren’t psyched about the idea of going back,” he eventually says, and his voice sounds genuine. “But I'm glad you did. You had such a good time last summer.”Â
Annie hums into the phone and sits on the bed. “Thanks, dad.”Â
“Are you having a good time?”
She bites her lower lip, staring blankly at the wall before her. She was having fun, until last week. It was a good camp, she could admit that. Until it all came tumbling down.
Annie drops her head in her hand. For a second, she wonders if her father knew everything all along, if he was in on this whole ordeal. But how could he? Even if there had been something going on last summer, they were never the kind of father and daughter to share everything. Would she have told him at all?
But his voice on the other side of the phone breaks her out of her thoughts, and for a second he sounds worried.
“Annie?”
Her eyes snap open.Â
“Yeah. Yeah, I'm having fun.”
There’s an insistent knock on the door, then Hitch’s voice breaks through the silence. “Annie, you'll get us all killed if you're late!”
She sighs dramatically. “I really need to go,” she says into the phone.Â
She bids her goodbyes as she stands up and throws her bag over her shoulder, but then another thought occurs, and she stops herself short of ending the call.
“Actually, dad, could you send me the pictures?”
“Of course,” he says, yet his voice sounds a little surprised.
The pictures come through just as the door knob turns, but Annie is too engrossed in them to care. She clicks on the first one, a group picture with all the others, taken in front of the Big House, painted a hideous shade of green at the time. They’re all wearing the orange uniform, squinting at the camera as if the sun were blinding them. Her eyes slowly travel over her colleagues’ faces, noting all the tiny ways in which they’ve changed over the year. Hitch’s hair was pin straight in there, Reiner’s face fuller. Jean had a more normal haircut, yet Sasha and Connie look the same by his side, goofing off to the camera.Â
Then her eyes trail down, and her breath catches in her throat, her eyes widening.Â
There she is, a younger version of herself, crouching down in front of the others; she wears such a wide smile in that picture. And next to her, someone she can barely recognize– a boy with a mop of blond hair on his head, and a pair of black, square glasses, smiling sheepishly at the camera. A little to the side sits Mikasa, whom she recognizes at the first glance, for she hasn’t changed one bit. Neither of them is in uniform– Mikasa is draped in a black dress, her hair in two half piggy tails, whereas Armin is wearing a deep green shirt she knows all too well, and a pair of kakis.
And between them, arms draped on their shoulders, a boy she doesn’t recognize. His eyes are closed, but he wears such a big smile that it’s hard not to mirror it.Â
Yet Annie frowns. Why does he look so familiar?Â
The door is slammed open, snapping Annie out of her trance. When she looks up, she finds Hitch standing in the doorway, wearing a frown so deep she can only mirror it. Her camp shirt is as spotless as always, tucked into green leggings.
She parts her lips, probably ready to scold her, but Annie cuts her short.Â
“I’m ready,” she says. She raises to her feet, pockets her phone and throws her backpack over her shoulder.
She throws Hitch a look over her shoulder, and finds her glaring at her disapprovingly.Â
“Will you lock the door?” she calls as she steps out of the room.Â
Hitch sighs dramatically but does so nonetheless.Â
For a second she wants to wait for her, thank her for being patient. But then she finds herself standing face to face with the devil reincarnated.Â
Her eyes widen when they meet Armin's, whose eyes are equally wide, hiding storms behind dirty glasses. She presses her lips together, tightens her hold on her backpack straps, and peels her eyes away.
She’s about to start down the stairs when she hears him clearing his throat. She stops as if on command, pricks up her ears, waiting for whatever he's about to say. Her head turns almost instinctively, and she finds him standing at the top of the stairs, wearing a frown that doesn’t suit him. The bags under his eyes don’t suit him, either, and he looks worn out, as if he hasn’t been sleeping well.Â
 A ping of guilt tugs at her chest– is she the reason behind all of that?
“Hi,” is all he manages to say.Â
Her heart nearly melts at the sound of his voice, however ragged. The effect he still has on her takes her a little aback.
“Hi,” she says back, averting her gaze.
Hitch jiggles her keys, dropping them in her bag, and starts down the stairs with rapid footsteps.
“She’s gonna kill us,” she laments.
They fall quiet as they descend the stairs, yet Annie’s awfully aware of Armin lurking behind her like a ghost. And a silent one at that. Had circumstances been different, she would have waited up for him so they could walk side by side, maybe hold his hand. She would have leaned closer as he told her about God knows what. Maybe she would have kissed him good morning.Â
She digs her finger-nails into the palm of her hand until it hurts, reminding herself that circumstances are not, in fact, different, and she can no longer do any of that. She can barely look at him without her heart aching in her chest. They’ve barely exchanged two words this entire week, resuming to only speaking the bare minimum, and nothing else than work.Â
But that was on her, wasn’t it? She's been avoiding him like the plague. Her anger washed away and turned into pain instead, her confusion only grew bigger. Yet every time he'd try to approach her, she’d deflect, she'd turn her back, avoid him at all cost, for she knew she could not stand the sight of him standing before her, spitting lie after lie as if it were second nature to him.Â
And yet, she found herself missing him most of the time. Missing his smile, and his hand in hers, and his kisses, always brightening her day, and his words, always caressing her ears.
The pictures her father's sent flash before her eyes.Â
All lies, she reminds herself. Every last one of his words.
When they make it outside, the kids have already gathered just in front of the door. They’re all wearing hiking equipment, which is a first for this camp really. Marie is giving them her usual instructing, not taking her eyes off of her flipchart, while Hannah’s going around distributing snacks to the kids. Her fellow volunteers are lined up, and the three of them silently join them. Luckily, neither Marie nor Hannah seem to notice the intrusion.
Pieck leans closer to her. “Is this your new thing?” she asks, a note of amusement in her voice. “Running late for every activity?”
Annie presses her lips together, bites back a remark, though she guesses she’s right. “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose,” she mumbles.
“If you say so.”
She narrows her eyes. “I’m not.”
Pieck raises her hands above her head defensively, but doesn’t say anything.Â
“That should be it,” Marie concludes her speech. “If anything comes up during the hike, feel free to address your counselors."
And with that, they’re ready to go. Annie takes her designated spot at the very end of the group, closing the formation– her and Armin’s group is the biggest this week, so Reiner agreed to letting them close this time. She doesn’t necessarily mind, since she gets some distance from the rest of them.
Except that she’s stuck with a very quiet Armin for the entirety of the hike. He doesn’t even attempt conversation as they leisurely make their way towards the old bridge. As the kids start slowly walking onto the bridge and to the other side of the river, where the hike officially begins, Annie finds herself stealing a glance or two at him. And yet he remains quiet, his eyes glued to the kids.Â
Normally, he would turn to her around this time, and strike up some conversation; he’d grace her with one of his smiles, maybe reach out for her hand.Â
But he doesn’t.Â
In some weird, twisted way, Annie finds herself wishing that he would. That he’d just keep talking, attempt to make things right. But he’s been trying all week, she is the one who kept pushing him away. What right does she have to expect anything from him now? Yet the thought that he’s given up on her so easily makes her heart hurt.
Annie’s snapped out of her thoughts by one of the kids, tugging at her sleeve. It’s the curly haired boy, looking up at her with big eyes.Â
Annie attempts a smile.Â
“What is it–” she flicks her eyes down to his nametag, “ – Andy?”
Making the kids wear nametags might have been the best decision she’s made all summer.Â
“How much longer is this hike going to take?”
Annie narrows her eyes. “We just got started.”
His face contorts into a mix of disappointment and anguish. “But how long is it going to be?”
“We’ll get back around nine.”Â
She looks up just in time to see Hannah usher them onto the bridge. Most of the group has already gathered on the other side.Â
She’s about to urge him to just go, but, when she looks back at Andy, she finds him looking rather pale, eyes blown wide and lips pressed in a tight line, as if trying to keep them from trembling. He’s fidgeting with the hem of his purple shirt.
Annie gestures for Armin to go on ahead of them, and he gives her a little look, as if asking if she’s got this. She only nods. Then, as soon as he leaves her side, she crouches down to the kid’s level.Â
“What is it? Are you not feeling alright?”
“It’s not that,” he mumbles, sinking his chin.
Annie tilts her head just enough to catch his eyes. “Then what is it?”
The boy whips his head around as if checking if there’s anyone there to hear them; there’s not. The only one left on this side of the bridge is Hannah, who must have caught on to what’s happening, for she keeps a safe distance. She doesn’t rush them, regarding them with a kind smile.Â
Andy gestures for Annie to come closer, so she does, and he cups his hand around his mouth as if afraid somebody is going to hear him.
“I don’t really like hikes,” he whispers.
Annie bites her lower lip, trying to fight off a smile. “You don’t?”
The little boy shakes his head thoroughly.Â
“You know, I didn’t really like them at first either,” she says, her voice as low as his.
Andy’s eyes widen a little. “But you work here,” he says.
“I do. I got used to them.”
He narrows his eyes. “How?”
“Well, for one, the view is really pretty,” she shrugs.
The little boy turns his head to the side a little, as if wanting to make sure. Annie follows his gaze, to a little group of trees, so tall they almost break the sky with their crowns. On one of the higher branches of one of them sits a squirrel, leisurely munching away on its nuts. If she listens really closely, past the chatter of her colleagues, she can almost hear the rustle of a waterfall.
“It is quite pretty,” he says at last.
Annie smiles, though the kid doesn’t look very convinced yet.Â
“My friends helped, too,” she says.Â
The boy frowns. “So you got through it with the power of friendship?”Â
She has to try really hard not to roll her eyes at him. “My first hike was terrible, you know,” she continues. “My feet hurt so much and I was so sweaty.” The corner of her lips pull up as she reminisces over it, memories from that very first week rushing back to her in such vibrant colors. “Armin even tripped on thin air a couple times, I had to hold onto him to make sure he wouldn’t break his neck.”
Andy snorts. “I thought you guys didn’t like each other.”
Annie drops her gaze and sighs. The kid sure has a sharp tongue. But she has to remind herself that he is just a kid, of course he has no filters. She runs a hand through her hair, scratching her scalp with her nails enough for it to sting.Â
“We’ve had our differences,” she says. “But at the end of the day, we'd always help each other out. The whole point of camp is that, no matter how hard it gets, friends stick together.” She gestures towards the other side of the bridge, where the rest of the group is waiting. “Your friends are over there, waiting. They’ll stick with you when it gets hard or you fall behind.”
He fists his hand over the handle of his backpack, pouting slightly. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she nods.
“What if they get mad I hold them back?”
“They won’t get mad.” She shakes her head. “If you fall behind, they’ll wait up on you. And you have us, too, we won’t let you get lost or anything.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
Andy pouts, staring at his boots as if considering her words. Eventually, he nods slightly.
“Okay.”
Annie’s face softens. “Okay? Do you wanna join the others?”
The boy nods, but says nothing.Â
“Alright then.”
When she goes to stand up, Andy reaches for her hand, his tiny fingers wrapping around her palm, but doesn’t say anything. Annie’s stuck speechless for a second, unsure of what to do, but then he gives it a little squeeze, hoping that it would be somewhat reassuring. She tugs at his hand, urging him towards the bridge. Hannah gives her a little proud smile as they step onto the bridge, and she finds herself mirroring it.Â
She doesn’t rush him as they cross the flimsy bridge, for he clutches at her hand for dear life, his other hand hovering in the air as if looking for support, but there’s ultimately none to be found.Â
When they do eventually make it to the other side and hop off the bridge, the other kids cheer for Andy. He blushes a little, then hurries to let go of Annie’s hand and join the others as they flaunt over how well he’s done. Annie finds herself smiling at the scene, and then down at her hand, too. It’s still warm, a little red where he’s held onto her.
There’s the creak of wood and stomp of boots on dry land, and soon there’s a hand on her shoulder. When she looks up, she finds Hannah smiling so wide it almost splits her face in two.Â
“That was really good, Annie! Good job!”
Her face warms a little, but then her own lips pull up in a smile. “Thanks.”
“Come on, let’s not keep them waiting.”
They join the others and regroup, then take off once again. Annie retrieves the camera from her backpack and snaps a picture of the kids walking up the pathway. She squints a little at it before deeming it decent. She lets the camera hang from her neck and buries her hands into her pockets. Next to her, Armin does the same.
“What was the problem?” he asks, and only now does she register his eyes on her.
She doesn’t meet his gaze, for she knows she couldn’t hold it. Instead, she tries to act as nonchalant as possible, shrugging as if it were nothing.Â
“He doesn’t like hikes,” she says simply.
Armin hums, and for a second falls quiet. Then, “Yeah, I can relate to that.”
Annie snorts, and rolls her eyes. “What, just because you tripped on thin air once or twice?”
When she finally looks at him, she finds herself staring right into his eyes, deep as ever and a little unfocused, as if he were lost somewhere in time. And yet he’s smiling, that slight, kind smile he always graced her with, the one reserved only for her.Â
Her face warms up for a second, but then venom makes its way up her throat. She arches an eyebrow at him.
“Or did that happen more times than I remember, too?”
His eyes widen slightly, his smile completely falling off. Armin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He averts his gaze fully, shaking his head briefly.Â
“This was really nice for a second,” he mumbles.Â
“What, am I wrong?”
Armin presses his lips together in a tight line, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, and for a second he looks really small. Annie narrows her eyes, pressing her nails into her palm until it stings. When Armin finally meets her eye, there’s a storm behind his eyes that makes her heart churn. Is she the reason for it?
“It’s happened once before,” he eventually says, his voice low.
“Of course it has,” she scoffs.Â
She kicks the dirt with the sole of her shoe. She knows that much now. It doesn’t make the pang of betrayal in her chest less heavy.
“I can tell you about it,” Armin says, his voice sounding almost desperate. “If you’ll let me.”
For a second, she’s tempted to take him up on that. The pictures her father’s sent flash before her eyes again; the image of him, so much younger, sitting by her side so casually; the way she leant into him with such a wide smile. And for a second she really wants him to tell her, to explain everything.Â
But then again, he’s had an entire summer to do so, and never did as much as mention it. Does she have any guarantee he’d even tell her the truth?
So, she shakes her head. Armin’s eyes widen slightly, his lips parted as if he were ready to speak just a minute before, but then he presses them together in a thin line, nodding his head as he looks away.Â
He doesn’t say anything else, and neither does she. Knowing he’s this close to her is excruciating enough.
The first half of the hike goes by excruciatingly slowly.Â
But when they make it to the top and take their usual lunch break, Annie lets out a sigh of relief as Armin sits far away from her, all the way across their makeshift picnic blanket. And yet, as she munches on her cheese sandwich, she cannot shake the feeling that he’s watching her. She has to force herself not to check.
“I have extra cucumber slices if anyone wants any,” Pieck announces, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Sasha launches forward and grabs the tupperwear. “Consider me sold!”
Jean’s shoulders fall, dramatically so. “Hey, I wanted some of that!”
Pieck is quick to grab the tupperware and place it in the middle of the blanket, just as Marie shoots them a glare from her own blanket a few feet away. “There’s plenty for everyone!”
Annie scoffs at their bickering, shaking her head a little. “Don’t mind if I do.” She grabs a slice herself, surprised with how well it goes with her sandwich.
She’s halfway through her second slice when a shadow casts above her.
“Miss Annie?”
When she looks up, she finds Andy standing above her, wearing a pout. She tilts her head.
“What is it?”
The rest of the kids are leisurely having their lunch, chatter filling the little valley. And yet here he is again.
“My sandwich is really soggy.”
Annie frowns. “What’s wrong with your sandwich?”
His pout somehow only deepens, but he doesn’t say anything. She raises an eyebrow, not sure what he wants her to do.
“Andy,” Armin calls, drawing both of their attention. He’s holding up another sandwich, wrapped in tin foil. “I have an extra one if you want it.”
The kid beams and shimmies over, grabbing the sandwich and throwing a low thanks over his shoulder before joining the rest of the kids.
Hitch snorts, leaning back on her hands. “Man, you have some picky kids this time around.”
Annie shakes her head slightly. “You can say that again.”
“They’re just young,” Amrin says.
“They're the oldest group we’ve had,” she argues.
He frowns, holding her eye. “They’re still young. They’re twelve.”
She frowns at him, a remark forming on the tip of her tongue, but Pieck claps her hands together.
“I am so glad you guys are talking again!” she beams, though there is a note of irony in her voice that Annie doesn’t quite like. “No offense, but this week has been pathetic.”
Annie presses her lips together.
Armin huffs out a breath, averting his eyes. “Right. Thanks.”
She leans over to pat his shoulder. “Any time.”
Silence befalls them as they finish off their lunches, and then Sasha grabs her bag and produces a pack of Uno.Â
“Anyone wanna play?”
They only play two rounds before Marie calls it a break and ushers them to get ready to leave. They hurry to clean up and pack their things, and soon enough Annie finds herself standing behind the group once again, closing the formation in the way she's seen Reiner do.Â
They start off slowly, until the kids fall back onto their pace. Annie completely zones out at some point, letting the birds’ chirping caress her ears into oblivion. The mountain is nice, it’s always been nice. She soon finds herself drowning into its sounds, and its colors, countless shades of green and brown blending together all around her. She could let it swallow her whole. The camera she’s been given doesn’t even begin to do it justice.
And then there’s a yelp, snapping her out of her day-dreaming. Annie turns around in an instant, finding Andy crouched over a few steps down the road– how has she passed by him without seeing him?
She frowns. As she gets closer, she sees that the kid's shoulders are rising and falling irregularly, and he is panting as if breathing hurts.Â
“Andy?”
When he raises his head, his eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated, and there's a look behind them that makes a shiver run down her spine.Â
She hurries to get by his side, brings a hand to his back and gently runs circles over the cloth of his jacket in an attempt to calm him down. It does little to help.
“It's okay, you’re okay," she says, but she doubts he is.Â
She scans his face briefly, looking for any indication of what could possibly be wrong. His face is getting redder by the second, as if he was having trouble breathing, and his chest heaves uselessly.Â
And then, Annie freezes. What is she supposed to do? Think, she berates herself.Â
She shakes her head, trying to pull herself together. What’s wrong with him?
She looks back towards the group, hoping that they noticed their absence and stopped. Her heart is pounding in her ears, threatening to jump out of her chest any moment now, and her ears ring. The wind blows softly, and nature seems to stop around them altogether.Â
But the dirt road is deserted.
Deserted, save for one person wandering up the path.
“Annie?” comes his voice, and she thinks she's never been so happy to hear it before. “Is Andy with you? Are you guys alright?”
Annie perches herself up, waving him over.Â
“I think he's having an asthma attack!”
Armin appears next to her in no time. He rummages through his backpack, a frown between his brows.
“Do you have an inhaler?” she asks, trying to keep her voice equal.Â
“Yes, just give me a minute.”
“I don't have a minute,” she hisses.
Armin's frown deepens, but he says nothing. He produces an inhaler out of his backpack, and she snatches it out of his hand.Â
The boy whimpers, clutching at the fabric of his jacket.Â
“Okay, hang on.”Â
Annie grabs his face, angles it towards her, and forces the inhaler into his mouth, pressing the button.Â
The boy's shaking stops at once.Â
Andy takes in a shaky breath, closing his eyes. Annie presses the inhaler again, letting go of his face as his breathing calms down.
“Thank you,” he mutters, unclenching his fist.
His breathing is a little strained, and voice a little throaty. Annie hums slightly, patting his back.Â
“It's okay, you’re okay now,” Armin says, and she's not sure if he's talking to her or the kid. “Take your time.”
They sit there for a while, until Andy's breathing calms down. Annie breathes a sigh of relief, letting her shoulders relax.Â
“Good thing you came for us,” she tells Armin.Â
His eyes widen slightly, as if he wasn't expecting any gratitude from her. He slowly turns to her, his expression melting into a smile.Â
“Yeah. I suppose this could have ended a lot worse.”
Annie hums. The possibility creeps into her mind before she can stop herself, but she swats it away. This is not the time. They avoided it, anyway.Â
She shakes her head slightly, and Armin presses his lips together. He leans closer to Andy, patting his shoulder.
She can’t help overhearing their conversation as she rises to her feet, dusting her pants.
“Are you alright now?”
“Yeah,” comes the kid's strained voice.Â
Something's not right. Annie squints at the empty road ahead of her, deserted of any life save for a squirrel.
“Do you want some water?”
She snaps her head towards the boys just as Andy downs Armin's water bottle.
“Armin, where are the others?”
He goes rigid then. His eyes are wide when they meet hers.
“What?”
Annie can feel her blood boil with every passing second.
“The others,” she repeats. “The group we were with? Where are they?”
Armin scatters to his feet, looking over her shoulder down the road, his eyes searching– for what, she’s not sure; there’s nothing there anyway.Â
“I– I thought they would have stopped by now.”
She frowns. “What do you mean, you thought? Didn’t you tell someone when you wandered down here?”
“No,” he says, his voice small. “No, I panicked, and I– I just–”
“What, you panicked and you forgot to think?”Â
She only realises how loud she’s being when Armin flinches, squeezing his eyes together for a second.Â
Annie turns on her heels, fisting her hair between her fingers. This is not the time to get angry, she tells herself. And yet–
“I think I remember the way back,” comes Armin’s voice, low and unsure.
She takes a deep breath in, then lets it out through her nose. This will have to do.
“Okay.”Â
She turns around, meeting his gaze. His lips are pressed together, and she finds herself doing the same. But there’s a sort of determined look in his eyes, one she knows all too well, letting her know that he'll find a way.
Then, her eyes glide down to the kid, now standing by Armin's side. He's looking between them like they were two lunatics, his lower lip trembling slightly. They cannot afford the kid having another asthma attack.
“Are we lost?” he says, his voice squeaky.
Annie hurries to reassure him, at the same time as Armin says, “No.”
She locks eyes with him for a second. “We just have to follow the red path, right?” she asks, recalling Marie's indications from their training hike.
A glint passes Armin's eyes. “Right.”
“Okay. Okay, we'll do that.”
“Oh, my God,” the kid whines, “we are lost!”
Armin turns to him with a kind smile on his face. “We're not. We'll find the others in no time, you'll see. We'll catch up to them by their next stop.”
“What if we don’t?”Â
His voice sounds a lot shakier than Annie would have liked.
“We will,” she insists. “You have to trust us on this one.”
Andy presses his lips together, looking between the two of them as if they were some freaks who escaped from the circus. She guesses they do look the part.
“You guys don’t even trust each other,” he cries.
Annie swallows, pressing her lips together so tightly that they sting. Armin gives her a look, something between embarrassment and guilt swimming in his eyes. But there’s something else there, something of the likes of pain, the kind of look generally present on an innocent culprit’s face. He opens his mouth, his fingers twitching by his side as if he wanted to reach out for her, but he ultimately doesn’t. When he looks back at Andy, Annie feels her heart sink.Â
She wants to tell him that that’s not true, that she does trust him, that she would have given him her heart if he asked– but she doesn’t dare. She doesn’t dare utter the words, doesn’t dare look him in the eyes. What if he dropped it again? Could she withstand that?
“We can do this,” Armin says, snapping her out of her thoughts.Â
While his voice sounded confident, there’s something in the way he taps his fingers on his side that doesn’t look very convincing.Â
“We just have to follow the red path. And stay together,” he adds, stealing a glance at Annie.
Annie holds his eye for only a second, her lips pressed together tightly. She wants to believe him so badly. She wants to believe that, at the very least, he would not lie to a scared child.
She swallows past the lump in her throat and nods shortly. “Right. Right, we’ve got this.”
The kid looks between the two of them with eyes blown wide, and for a second she fears they’ll pop out of his orbits. But eventually he nods, albeit reluctantly.Â
They start down the path they’d been following with the group, slowly as Andy finds his pacing again. Annie wants to tell him to hurry, to argue that they will never get anywhere if he’s that slow, but she bites back on it. That’s the last thing they need right now, fighting with a frightened kid in the middle of a forest.
She keeps an eye out for the red triangles with little white circles in them, but they’re not as frequent as Marie said on that first hike. Or at least she doesn’t see them all.Â
Armin seems to know what he’s doing though, for he walks ahead of her so naturally, his step calculated. She manages to tune out Andy’s whining, walking a few steps behind the two, taking in their surroundings, and–
Wait, haven’t they passed that rock before? Her step falters, and then she stops altogether, eyes glued to the rock, to the little sign painted right in the middle of it. She definitely remembers seeing it before, nestled by an old tree on the side of the pathway, moss overtaking its right side.Â
She snaps her head to Armin, who’s already had the sense to stop. He regards her with a frown.
“What is it?”
“We’ve been here before.” She points at the rock, and Armin squints at it. “We’re going in circles.”
“We’re doomed!” the kid laments.
But Annie doesn’t pay him any mind, scowling at Armin instead.
“You said you knew what you were doing.”
“That can’t be right,” he mutters, inspecting the rock. “It can’t be–”
She snaps. “Oh, so you’re calling me a liar now?”
“What? No!” He scowls at her, which only makes her frown deepen. “But I’ve been following the path, we couldn’t have been walking in circles.”
“Except that we have been.”
“Maybe it’s just a similar rock,” he offers, though his voice is a notch too high-pitched. “We should get going.”
And he turns to leave, but Annie doesn’t budge.Â
“Maybe we should abandon the path and just try to make it out of the forest,” she reasons.Â
Armin stops in his tracks, but doesn’t turn around. Silence befalls them, and for a second she can almost swear that she hears the buzz of the highway. An idea springs to mind then.
“I’m sure we can hitch-hike our way back to camp if we make it to the highway.”
Armin finally turns back to her with a frown. “Or, maybe, we should just follow the path Marie showed us,” he says pointedly.Â
She presses her lips together, digging her nails into her palms. She wants to fight him, to tell him that he’s just getting them lost into the forest. It’s already getting late, the setting sun painting the trees orange, sending shadows over them. They have no time to waste, and they cannot be spending the night in the forest.
But before she can say anything, Armin sighs profusely, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at her with pleading eyes, but she stands her ground.
Eventually, he sighs.Â
“It’s not the same rock, Annie,” he says. “Let’s just go.”
And he turns to leave. Andy does the same, his shoulders slouched forward. Annie takes a hesitant step towards the two of them, but then she takes another look at the rock.
“I just know that it’s the same rock. My memory is not that shitty,” she says, hoping that it would at least make him stop.Â
And it does. Except that, when he turns back to her, he’s wearing such an angry expression that it makes her take a step back.Â
“Oh, really? Because last time I checked, you forgot a whole damn summer!”
Annie’s eyes widen, her heart stinging at the comment.Â
“You’re not seriously blaming that on me.”Â
Her voice comes out barely above a whisper, but she knows he heard her, for he takes a step closer, fists clenched by his sides.Â
“I’m just saying that you’re not exactly known for your memory. So maybe you should stop fighting me and–”
“And you think I like this?” she snaps. “You think I fucking wanted this? Not being able to remember my own past, my own life!”
Armin freezes in his tracks, eyes blown wide and mouth a little agape, but he doesn’t say anything, looking at her as if she’d completely lost it, and maybe she has.Â
Andy looks between the two of them, his lower lip trembling slightly. There’s a sting behind her eyes, and it’s getting harder to swallow, but her heart hurts so much that she needs to clutch at it. Not that it does anything to help.Â
“You must think that I’m having such a good time, going around with no memories! Oh, look at her, she can’t remember her summer fling! So fun!” She throws her hands in the air. “It’s not! It sucks! There are entire parts of me that I simply cannot remember and I know there’s something missing, I can feel that there’s something missing, and I so desperately want it back, I want me back, but there’s nothing I can do about it!” A tear rolls down her cheek, fat and wet and hot. She wipes it away, only for it to be followed by another one. “So you can be pissed about that, but you don’t get to blame it on me.”
Annie can’t stand to even look at him, at those big eyes that are slowly filling with pity, and that guilty look behind them. The sight of it makes her throat fill with bile. Why are his eyes, once looking at her with so much love and adoration, now regarding her with so much pity?
No, not pity, for it has long changed into grief. As if he were the one that lost everything that day. As if he were the one who had to suffer the consequences, to adapt to living with a damaged brain. Even looking at him now makes her blood boil.
His hand comes up to her shoulder, making her flinch.
“Annie, that’s not–”
She slaps his hand away.
“Fuck off,” she spits. “Just shut up already.”
To his grace, he does. He lets his hand fall and bites his lip, but he says nothing, casting his eyes down. Annie brings a hand over her mouth, swallows her tears, then she wipes her eyes and her cheeks.Â
Taking a deep breath in, she says, “I’m going to find that highway and get out of here, whether you’re coming with me or not.”Â
His eyes widen then, and he snaps his head up. “We are not splitting up,” he says, and his voice sounds like an ultimatum.
As if he had any right at all to give her any ultimatums. “I’m done chasing red freaking triangles, Armin! They’re not getting us anywhere!"
“And how are you planning on getting to the highway?” he shouts back, taking a step towards her.Â
But she doesn’t back down, staring him right in the face.Â
“What are you going to do, just wander through the forest until you find it?”
Annie clenches her fist, digging her fingernails into her palms until they start stinging. “Well, that sounds a lot more useful than walking in circles up here!”
She spins on her heels, turning her back to him at last, and starts down to the forest. Andy meets her gaze with such big eyes, denoting confusion, but eventually he walks next to her, albeit hesitant.
“Annie.”Â
Armin’s voice sounds a lot like a warning, but she cannot stand the sight of him, she cannot bear to be around him a moment longer. And if she listens really closely, she’s almost sure she can hear the highway down south.Â
But when she’s about to enter the forest line, a hand clasps her arm. His hold is tight, burning through her flesh, and she finds herself freezing in her tracks, her eyes widening.
“Annie, have you gone nuts?!”
She spins around then, so fast that it makes Armin drop his hand. “Don’t touch me!”
His eyes widen, his face falling in a sort of shocked expression.Â
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” she spits, venom rising up her throat. His lips part, but before he can say anything, charm her with his stupid words, she adds, “You lost that privilege weeks ago.”
But when she goes to resume her walking, her foot catches in something. Her eyes widen and her breath catches, and for a split second she’s falling face-first.Â
A ring protrudes her ears when she hits the ground, and her vision goes black, but for a second she thinks she’s fine. Then–
A little yelp escapes her lips as pain shoots through her knee, and up her leg, spreading through her entire body.
It's Andy's shrill of horror that makes her come back to her senses, immediately followed by Armin's voice. Although it sounds so panicked that she finds herself frowning at it.Â
“Annie?!”
She pushes herself up on her hands, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to get her eyes used to the sting.Â
“I'm fine,” she wants to say. But when she looks down on herself, the words die on the tip of her tongue, and her breath catches in her throat. Is that–
She brings her hand closer to her eyes, squinting at it, hoping that her eyes are playing her.Â
But they’re not, that is blood.Â
But there’s no wound on her palm.Â
Her pulse quickens, her heart beating against her chest rapidly as her eyes travel down, looking for the source of it.Â
And when she finds it, a sudden shrill sneaks past her lips. Bile raises in her throat as she stares at her knee, at the skin cracked open and the blood gushing out of it, soaking her skin.
What has she done?
Before she has time to fully process it, her face is engulfed in something warm and spun away from the sight. She’s met with Armin’s eyes, blown wide with worry, and she finds herself freezing under his gaze. She tries to avert her gaze, to check her knee, but he holds her face in place, not letting her see.Â
“It's better if you don’t look,” he says, a foreign kind of urgency in his voice.Â
Yet it sounds gentle, oh so gentle.
Tears well behind her eyes, and she’s not sure if it's the pain or his proximity causing them.Â
“Don’t touch me.” But her voice comes out strained, broken, drifting off towards the end.Â
Armin swallows, hard, as if her words stung. She hopes they did. She wishes she hadn’t said that.
For she doesn’t mean it, not one bit. She aches to be closer, to nestle herself in the crevice of his chest and next to his heart, to lose herself in his warmth.
But he doesn’t let go.
“Let me take care of it.”
She shakes her head, trying to break away from his touch. “No.”
“Annie–”
She shakes her head again and again, grabbing his wrists and trying to peel them away, but he doesn’t relent, mumbling something about needing to nurse her wound, but she barely hears him through the ring in her ears. Are her cheeks getting damp?
“No, no–”
“Please, Annie! You don’t have to talk to me ever again, you don’t even have to look at me, that’s fine, but please, please, just let me take care of your knee.”
A sob escapes her lips. When has she gotten so pathetic?
“I don't want to never talk to you again,” she cries.Â
She’s not sure if it's the adrenaline talking or the spell of his hands on her skin, but she carries on.
“Can't you see how much this hurts?” A sob interrupts her speech. “Can’t you see that?”Â
Armin's face morphs into such a pained expression, for a second she thinks it will just break into tiny pieces.
“I am so, so sorry, Annie,” he mutters. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” She swallows another sob, desperately wiping at her eyes. “You must have known I wouldn’t react well to being led on. So why didn’t you just tell me?”
His lips part, yet no word comes out, as if he's run out of them. He drops his gaze, and his hold on her face weakens.Â
“I thought I just…” he swallows, hard, and then he squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “I guess I would've rather have you hate me than forget me.”Â
She blinks, once, twice, trying to make sense of the absolute nonsense he's spitting. And then a laugh escapes her lips. A broken sound, no different than a cry, but she wants to believe it’s a laugh.Â
“I would have rather done neither.”
When he meets her gaze, his own eyes are welling with tears, and he's biting down on his lower lip, probably trying to stop it from trembling.
“I–”
But she doesn’t let him finish, for she fears that, if she doesn’t speak now, she'll never have the chance to let the words out.
“My heart hurts for you, and I just need it to stop.”Â
Armin’s eyes widen, and his lips part, but no word comes out. Yet a glint passes his eyes, and a first tear rolls down his cheek. He caresses her cheeks, wiping the tears away. But it soon proves futile, as new ones replace them in no time.
Annie attempts to say something, but when she opens her mouth, the only thing that comes out is a pathetic little whimper.Â
“I can explain, I’ll tell you everything. If you’ll let me.”
She wants to shake her head, but when his eyes meet hers, she finds herself frozen in place. Her walls crumble under the intensity of his gaze, his eyes searching hers so thoroughly, so intensely, and for a second she can feel all his pain and sorrow. It’s as if he were pouring them all directly into her very soul, and for a second she thinks they’ve never been more connected than right now.Â
Her eyes fill with new tears, but he wipes them all away. She finds it in herself to nod. Armin’s eyes widen slightly. He drops his head, letting out such a long sigh, like she’s just taken a great burden off his shoulders.Â
When he looks at her again, he’s wearing such a relieved smile. “Okay. Okay.”
He averts his gaze to her knee, his lips pressing together as he examines the wound, yet he doesn’t let her see it.Â
Armin’s voice is gentle when he speaks. “Let me take care of this now, okay?”
She nods again, and then the warmth of his hands on her face is gone. She finds she misses it immediately.Â
Armin unzips his backpack and produces a first kit aid. Annie adjusts herself, finding a more comfortable position, though that proves rather difficult. Her eyes lock with Andy's when she switches again, and she freezes at the sight.
He's watching her with such big eyes, tear-stains staining his cheeks, and his lips are silently moving, as if he were saying a prayer. As if the only thing that could get them out of this mess now was divine intervention.
She clears her throat, taking in as much air as her lungs will allow. And when she calls his name, the boy flinches.
“Andy, I need you to do something for me.”
She can sense Armin’s gaze on her, yet she keeps her attention on Andy. She switches again, grunting when a new wave of pain shoots through her leg, and fishes her phone out of her back pocket. It’s cracked, but it still turns on.Â
She thrusts her hand forward. “I need you to take this and call Hitch.”Â
The boy frowns at her, looking between her hand and her face.
“And I don’t think you'll get any signal here, so you might have to climb a little. But don’t venture too far.”
Andy reluctantly nods, and takes the phone from her extended hand.Â
“What should I tell her?”
It's Armin that answers. “Tell her that we got lost. Tell her that we're right at the entrance of the forest, right next to a boulder.”Â
“What if there are more boulders?”
Armin exchanges a look with Annie. She narrows her eyes, trying to recall if there are supposed to be more, yet she’s not very sure. Her head is spinning, and she has to focus extra hard for her brain to cooperate.Â
She knows there’s one where they usually take their last break, though it’s much larger than this one, big enough to fit a couple of people on it. They usually use it as a picnic table. And then…
“Tell her it’s not the one where we do our stop, but the one before it. And that we can hear the highway down south from here.”
The kid nods, and then he ventures a little up the road, looking for signal. He doesn’t seem to have any luck, for he turns around and walks the other way. But he stays within eyeshot of the two.
Annie finds herself following her every move, when something cold and stingy touches her knee. She lets out a little grunt, but then bites her lips in an attempt to stop it. Her eyes well with tears again. She shoots Armin a glare, and he meets it with such an apologetic look as he gently pats the iodine on her wound.
“A warning would have been nice.”
“I thought about that,” he confesses, a little smile creeping into his face. “But then I figured it'd be better if you didn’t expect it.”
She presses her lips together, trying to fight off the sting. When Armin deems it torture enough, he removes the gauze, and inspects the wound.
“It's not that bad,” he says, though his eyes are glued to the wound.
Annie adjusts a little, just enough to see it. The mere sight of it sends a little shiver down her spine.
“It looks pretty bad,” she mutters.
“I think you'll need a few stitches.” Armin retrieves some gauze from his kit and splashes some iodine onto it. “But it looks superficial. I don’t think you hit anything important.”
He presses the thing onto her flesh. Annie takes it from his hands, pressing it to her skin as he retrieves some dressing. He starts wrapping it around her knee, securing it in place. He inspects the thing, makes a face, and goes back to his kit.
Annie frowns. “What was that?”
“I need tape.”Â
Her frown only deepens. He finds some in his kit, tapes it around the margins, then takes a good look at his masterpiece.
“I think it's good.”
Annie hums, though she says nothing. As Armin packs his kit back, she searches for Andy. She finds him all the way up the boulder, standing on it, his hand pressed against the tree. He has the phone to his ear and seems to be talking to somebody. When his eyes meet hers, a big smile morphs onto his face, and he takes his hand off the tree to give her a thumbs up.Â
For a second, her heart stops, thinking that he'll fall off. But then he grabs the tree again, and only then does she realise that the kid might have gotten them saved.
“Do you think you can walk?” comes Armin’s voice.
When she turns to him, he's kneeling next to her, backpack strapped on his shoulders.
“I think I can try.”
Armin helps her up, and try she does, but when she puts her foot down, a sharp pain shoots through her entire being, and her vision blacks out. She grunts, clasping Armin’s arm. His hand comes up to her elbow, holding her up.
“I can carry you,” he offers.
She shakes her head, though her face warms up.Â
“I'm too heavy for you.”Â
“Annie, you can’t even stand right,” he scolds.Â
She sighs. He’s right, of course, though she won’t tell him that.Â
“What about your backpack?”
“I'll wear it on my front. Come on.”
Annie sighs, but she gives in nonetheless. Turns out, Armin can, in fact, carry her with no issues. When they make it up to the boulder, Andy’s still talking on the phone, but he lowers himself when he sees them and slides down.Â
“Hitch says they’re not that far from us, “he tells them. “She's coming for us.”
Annie hums. She can hear Hitch's voice from the other end, and then Andy thrusts the phone towards her.Â
“She says she wants to talk to you.”
She takes the phone from his hand and sighs, then puts it up to her ear.
“Hitch?”
That’s all her roommate needs. “How on earth did you get lost in the forest?” she berates her, her voice so loud that she can almost swear that Armin hears it too, for he cringes a little. “What the hell is wrong with you two? And you got injured?! Seriously?!”
Annie sighs. She chooses to ignore her comments. “Where are you? We can meet you halfway.”
“Oh, don’t you fucking dare move!” she says, her voice stern. “Stay right where you are. And don’t hang up.”
She hands the phone back to Andy, who seems absolutely horrified at whatever else Hitch might be saying. She asks Armin to put her down, and he does, gently so, setting her down on a patch of grass before sitting next to her. It feels like an eternity later that Hitch finds them, but when she does, she’s wearing such a deep frown. It melts away when she sees them, replaced with something like relief. She stops a few steps away from them, dropping her hand on her knees and letting her head hang for a little while.Â
Then, she straightens up and wordlessly joins them on the grass, wiggling in right between them. Annie frowns, but then she yelps when her roommate drapes her arms around her shoulders, and brings both her and Armin into a hug.
“I'm so glad you guys are okay,” she mutters.
Annie hesitates for a second, but then she brings her hand up to Hitch’s shoulder and pats it lightly. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”
A second later, Hitch lets go and pushes herself up.
“Okay, let’s get back to the others now.” She turns to Annie and frowns at her knee. “Can you walk?”
Armin answers for her. “I'll carry her.”
Hitch arches an eyebrow, looking between the two of them as if questioning whatever might have gone down the last few minutes. But then she shrugs and just grabs Armin’s bag.Â
Armin helps Annie onto his back again, securing his hands on her, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders.
“Okay, Andy, let’s go,” Hitch calls.
The kid nods, but then he silently reaches up for her hand. Hitch smiles, giving it a little squeeze.Â
“Everything's okay now,” she tells him. “We'll get back to the others in no time.”
“That's what they said, too,” he mutters.Â
Hitch’s smile falters for only a minute. “Let’s go.”
The rest of the hike back is more of a blur to Annie. She’s not sure how long it takes for them to meet up with the others, but when they do, Marie is quick to pull them aside and berate them. Until she sees Annie’s knee, only then does she shut up.Â
Annie’s vaguely aware of Armin explaining everything, but she cannot follow his string of words, nor Marie’s quick responses. They’re moved to the front of the group, right next to Hannah and Sasha and Connie’s group, and Reiner is moved to the back with Marie, to close the formation. Andy joins his friends again, and soon they start moving.Â
Had she not been in so much pain that she couldn’t articulate any coherent thought, she might have felt almost embarrassed of this walk of shame, of sorts. She’s painfully aware of her colleagues’ worried eyes on her, as well as the kids's curious whispers.Â
But instead, she melts into Armin’s back, trying, and failing, to think about anything but her fucked up knee.
Ymir is leisurely smoking on the porch when they make it back, the tip of her cigarette glimmering through the dark, but she stubs it out when she sees them coming up the alley.Â
Hannah hurries past her and runs inside, mumbling something about her car keys.
Ymir regards them with a questioning look, but then she beckons the kids inside for dinner, yet she doesn’t join them.
“What happened out there?”Â
The question is not addressed to anyone in particular, yet her eyes are glued to Annie’s knee.Â
“A little accident,” is all Hitch tells her.
Only then does Annie notice that none of her colleagues went inside, save for Floch, and have instead gathered around her, regarding her with worried looks. She doesn’t like their looks. They make her feel small.
Hannah makes it out with the keys, and beckons Arnin to come with her. He helps Annie onto the back seat of the host’s van as gently as he can, yet a little whimper still escapes her lips when the comfortable support of his arms is gone.
He brushes the damp hair out of her face and places a haste kiss to her forehead. Â
Annie tries to smile, and she addresses all of her colleagues when she speaks. “I'll be okay. Don’t wait for me.”
Neither of them looks very convinced, but they don’t argue with her. The door is soon shut. Hannah turns on the engine and starts the car.
It's been a hot minute, so WIP Wednesday!! Here's a little excerpt from chapter 28 of Who painted the sky? :)
Annie can’t stand to even look at him, at those big eyes that are slowly filling with pity, and that guilty look behind them.
His hand comes up to her shoulder, making her flinch.
“Annie, that’s not–”
She slaps his hand away.
“Fuck off,” she spits. “Just shut up already.”
Hi, all! Here is chapter 2 of Afterglow: From Samaritan to Sin, which was supposed to be my entry for Day 7 of Aruaniversary 2025. Hope you all enjoy! đź’›
Here is my entry for Day 4 of Aruaniversary 2025, prompt used: Festival. Hope you enjoy! đź’ś
@aruani-week-2025
The music was starting to get on Annie’s nerves, neverending and growing louder by the minute. The sun shone bright, the makeshift tent she’d found herself in doing nothing to shield her from the heat. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Her dress was sticking to her skin sickeningly, in no way appropriate for this kind of weather.
The administration– or Hange, really, but they tended to run things around the place, so whatever they said was regarded as law– had insisted on all merchants wearing medieval attire, to help immerse the visitors into the overall atmosphere of the festival. So she got the first thing she could find– a green costume she found on Amazon, with a white puffy undershirt and a deep green dress with too many strings. But it was cheap, and she wasn’t going to wear it after the festival, so she’d figured it would make do. At least she had had the sense to tie her hair up, styling it into a low braided bun. She didn’t have to deal with her nape being sweaty. Though her bangs were starting to stick to her forehead, no matter how much she’d try to push them to the side.
An irritating voice that she knew far too well snapped her out of her thoughts. “So can I buy some bees?”
Annie rolled her eyes, but then she froze in her tracks when her eyes landed on Reiner, standing before her with a shit eating grin.
“What on earth are you wearing?”
Somehow, his grin only broadened, and for a minute she thought it was going to split his face in half.
He was wearing what appeared to be a knight’s armour, with a blue undershirt two sizes too small. The helmet under his arm had feathers in the same colour, though the thing looked too small to fit even half of his head.
Reiner looked down on himself, flaunting his costume. “Oh, this sweet thing? I got it off Etsy,” he said proudly.
It truly showed. Not because it was bad, but because it looked like it was going to pop off him any minute.
“Say, can I or can I not buy some bees from you?” he asked again.
Annie properly rolled her eyes. “I’m selling honey,” she said, pointing at the banner above her head. “And honey products, not bees.”
Reiner arched an eyebrow at her, then craned his neck up and squinted at the banner. Annie placed a hand on her hip and stared at him as he studied the thing. She was pretty proud of it. She’d stayed up three nights in a row to get it done in time, but it turned out pretty well.
“Then why is there a bee on the banner if you’re not selling bees? It’s pretty misleading.”
She pressed her lips together, biting back on a remark. “Because honey comes from bees,” she said, her voice sharp.
He stared at her for a minute, as if the thing made no sense to him whatsoever. Then he looked down at the products displayed in front of her, and Annie did the same. She would have looked at anything else but his stupid face right now. She let her eyes settle on the pyramids of honey jars and little casseroles with honey combs laid out on the table, all wearing her father’s stamp. She had candles, too, made out of bee wax, but she’d figured the sun was too bright and would have melted them, so she’d put the box under the table. No one had asked for candles yet anyway, too intoxicated with the varieties of honey she displayed.
“So no bees?” he asked again, pouting like a child.
Annie groaned, running a hand down her face. How dense could this man be?
“Reiner, for the love of God–” she started, but a familiar voice cut her short.
“Annie!”
The sound of her name spoken from his lips was sweeter than honey.
Annie’s head snapped up. She squinted at his distant form, trying to make him out.
“Oh, your boy is here,” Reiner teased. He must have seen him first.
Annie shot him a glare, but resumed her search nonetheless.
And then there he was. Smiling sweetily, engulfed in green, with a camera hanging by his neck. He had been hired as the fest’s official photographer. Which he said was great for his resume, but a selfish little part of her wanted to believe he signed up so he could spend more time with her.
Not that she minded. Not that she was going to ask anyway.
His smile made her entire being warm up when he finally stood before her.
Armin was wearing a deep green tunic with a white undershirt, and brown dress pants. A leather satchel was hanging heavily on his shoulder. She wondered what he might be carrying. When he smiled, he did so with his whole face, his eyes sparkling with it. If she could, she would spend the rest of her life getting lost in those eyes, for they felt like home.
The click of a camera snapped her out of her thoughts. Annie blinked rapidly, her vision dotted white from the flash.
His smile only broadened as he scanned the picture.
“What, was I making a face?” Annie leaned over the counter, peering over to the little screen.
Armin chuckled, then angled the camera towards her.
“No, you look perfect.”
Annie hummed, scanning the picture. His definition of perfect must have been a little off, because she was making a face.
He bent over the counter to place a kiss on her cheek. It made her smile, and her heart melted. “How are you?”
“I was just telling Reiner here–” but when she turned towards the man, the spot he’d been previously standing in was vacant.
Annie frowned, leaning over the counter to look for him. She squinted her eyes, slowly looking around the others’ boots– Sasha’s sweets stand, Hitch’s jewelry far on the corner, someone selling cheese. And there he was by Connie’s wood carving workshop, hiding behind a banner too short to cover half of him, snickering like a child.
Annie rolled her eyes. Really?
She turned back with a sigh, finding Armin already looking at her. Her face warmed again, though she found herself immediately relaxing under his gaze. She scanned his attire a little, noting just how good he looked in this shade of green. Maybe ordering matching costumes hadn’t been that bad of an idea.
Then her gaze shifted higher, over the leather necklace resting on his shirt, and his relaxed smile, and–
She frowned.
“They gave you elf ears?” she asked, squinting to make sure she was seeing right.
Armin let out a breathy laughter. He turned his head to the side for her to see better. “Hange said they’d help me blend in better.”
She crooked an eyebrow at him. Leaning over, she touched his ear, letting her fingers graze where the plastic one was attached to his skin. She didn’t miss the way his breath hitched when she did so, and she let her fingertips linger.
“Does Hange know there’s nothing medieval about elfs?”
Armin chuckled. “Levi tried to argue the same thing this morning, but they wouldn’t have it. Said I’d ruin the aesthetic otherwise.”
Annie snorted, letting her hand fall. It sounded just like them.
“They gave me a pair for you, too,” he said. His face lit up as he searched his pockets.
Annie crooked an eyebrow at the pair of silicone elf ears in his palm. They were slightly smaller, as if picked up specifically for her ears, and a bit more pointy.
“We could be matching,” he beamed.
“We already are,” she argued.
Armin pouted. “Yeah, but…” he trailed off, lowering his hands, then bit his lip as if unsure what to say. “You’d look cute?” he tried, peering up at her.
Annie rolled her eyes at his dorkiness, but took the ears nonetheless. His face lit up, and he attentively watched as she put them on.
“There,” she said when she was done putting them on. They felt a little heavy, but not unpleasant.
Armin’s eyes widened slightly, sparkling as he took her in. She held her bangs up and turned her head to the right, and then to the left, for him to get a better look. When she faced him again, his complexion was dusted pink, and he wore a stupid smile on his face.
His gaze was unwavering.
Annie frowned, her cheeks heating up. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, but his smile only grew.
Annie crooked an eyebrow at him, pouting her lips a little. It made him chuckle.
“The ears fit you.You’re beautiful.”
Annie rolled her eyes, though her cheeks warmed. “I’m not, I’m sweaty.” She wiped her forehead for emphasis.
Armin shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue as if that was enough of a counter argument. He took a water bottle out of his satchel and thrusted it towards her. “Here.”
Annie thanked him in a hurry and took it from his hand, happy to note how cold the thing was. She downed the thing in record time, only now realising how thirsty she’d been.
“Thanks,” she said, wiping her mouth. It helped only a little bit, for the sun was still shining bright and her shirt was still clinging to her back, but at least she didn’t feel like dying anymore.
“No worries.” His eyes cast down, settling on the counter. “How’s commerce going today?”
Annie sighed. She glanced at the almost untouched pyramids of jars and casseroles, pressing her lips together. “Slow,” she admitted. “I’ve sold close to nothing so far.”
Armin hummed. “It’s been a slow day for everyone,” he said. “There were a handful of people in the arena earlier, for Historia’s concert, but that’s about it.”
Annie sighed again, dropping down on her stool.
“I bet people are just hiding from the heat though, they’ll show up eventually,” he hurried to add, in what was probably meant to be a reassuring manner. It did little to help.
“I wanna hide from the heat,” she mumbled. She ran a hand down her face, then wiped it on her skirts. Had she not had to wear this stupid costume, the heat might have been half bearable.
Armin pressed his lips together, whipping his head to the side as if searching for something. She followed his eyes as they finally settled on a boot a couple blocks down, and squinted to try and make it out.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, flashing her a smile.
Annie leaned back, following him with her gaze as he ran down the alley. When he came back, he was holding a little wooden fan. Annie’s eyes widened the slightest bit, warmth overtaking her entire being. He grabbed himself a stool and settled in front of her, then started fanning her face. Annie found herself staring at him, her lips slowly pulling up.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much better,” she said, letting her shoulders relax. “Thanks.”
She leaned over and pecked his lips, short and sweet. He tasted like buckthorn; she remembered seeing someone selling something resembling orange juice way down the alley, and she’d thought it was too early in the year for it to be orange juice. It must have been some kind of buckthorn nectar. When she pulled away, his cheeks were dusted pink, but his eyebrows were knitted together the slightest bit. She narrowed her eyes, but then he smiled.
He folded the fan. “Hold this for a second,” he said, resting it on her lap. Annie raised an eyebrow as she unfolded the thing and fanned her face.
Then he started looking through his satchel again, and Annie tilted her head to the side, watching curiously. He took out a little purple stick– a chapstick, she realised as he took the cap off.
Her eyes widened the slightest bit when he rose to his feet, never leaving him. Her hand froze mid movement when Armin gently grabbed her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted her head up.
But he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes fixed on her lips. He slowly dabbed the chapstick on her lips. Annie’s face grew impossibly warm with the motion, and she tried to focus on something else, anything else. But the scent of lavender invaded her nostrils, and his fingertips were burning through her skin, and when he deemed it acceptable he smiled that sweet smile of his and her heart melted in her chest.
Armin leaned down and kissed her on the lips– which she thought defeated the purpose of his whole charade, though she couldn’t really complain.
“That’s better,” he said when he pulled away.
He put the cap back on and sat back down, taking the fan from her hand and replacing it with the chapstick. Annie glanced down at the little thing, turning it around in her hand. She tried making out the writing on the label.
“This heat is really not doing you any good,” Armin said, resuming his fanning.
Annie snorted, finally meeting his eye. “You think?”
Armin smiled softly, but didn’t say anything else. For a minute they fell quiet, and she let her eyes close.
“Do you have plans for tonight?”
“I’ll take the coldest shower of my life,” she said. Armin scoffed, and she peeled her eyes open. “And you?”
“Probably the same,” he shrugged.
Annie humed. “We could take it together,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.
It made him laugh, and for a second he stopped fanning her face. She missed the cool immediately.
“I think I'm getting off a lot later than you though,” he said. He fanned his own face for a second, a sad smile passing his lips, then returned to fanning hers.
“How so?”
“I need to be there for the knights’ duels,” he said, as if it were nothing. “To take pictures and make sure they look cool.”
Annie frowned. “There’s a knights’ duel?”
“Yeah, it starts at nine. Not sure how long it will last.” He frowned. “Is it not on the schedule?”
“I didn’t check,” she shrugged. She had just checked where her boot was, and the schedule for the merchants. The day ended at half past nine and she wasn’t planning on sticking around longer than that.
“Is Reiner fighting by any chance?”
Armin snorted. “He’s on the first panel.”
“God.”
“He’s got the best costume so far,” Armin said.
Annie arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “With that hideous thing?”
“I know, I had the same reaction,” he laughed. “But the others are truly hideous. Pieck’s all pink.”
Annie winced. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
“I take you’re not coming down to the arena, then.”
Annie sighed. “I’m not sure yet,” she answered truthfully. “I’d love to see you in action, but I might be too tired to even walk.”
His smile was warm. “That’s alright.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, his smile only broadening. “I can always just show you the pictures at home.”
Annie hummed, looking down at the chapstick in her hands awfully aware of how warm her face was getting. It wasn’t their home, she hadn’t officially moved in, though he liked calling it that.
“Maybe,” she said, though that didn’t quite cut it. Seeing him in the midst of it all, so passionate about his craft, had something mesmerizing to it. Maybe it was the way his eyes shone during the act, or how much thought he put into every shot, that kept her on the edge. But only seeing the final product wasn’t half as fun as watching the entire process unfold.
“Assuming you’re still coming over, I mean,” he added with a smile.
Annie hummed. They had made the vaguest of plans to spend the night and drive down to the festival together the next morning.
“I am, if you’ll have me.”
His eyes lit up when he smiled. “Good.”
Someone cleared their throat. Annie snapped her head up, only to be met with Hange’s shit eating grin. Now, they looked truly ridiculous, in their striped black and red jester costume, and with a comically large hat. They even went to such lengths as to put clown makeup on, which Annie doubted they had back then.
“I hate to break it to you, Arlert, but you’re not getting paid to sit around all lovely dovey.”
Armin tried arguing that he was just taking his well deserved break, and that there wasn’t much going on anyway, but Hange wouldn’t have it, urging him to get back to work. He eventually gave in, his shoulders slouching as he folded the fan and handed it to her. He grabbed his satchel as he stood up, then kissed her goodbye.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“Break a leg!” she called after him as he was leaving. He raised a hand, but didn’t turn back.
It wasn’t even ten yet when she finished loading up her truck. She slammed the truck’s trunk closed and locked the thing, pocketing the key. She’d somehow sold most of the goods– Armin had been right, people had started coming in in hoards once the heat had cooled down.
Readjusting her bag on her shoulder, Annie started down the alley. His gig had only started for twenty minutes, she’d very likely get there before it ended, even if she weren’t hurrying.
She took her time, strolling through the park, through the sea of buzzing people. Most were going in the same direction. The wind carried the scent of freshly baked bread and the sound of folk music. Candles illuminated the park just enough for her to see her step, but not enough to make out any faces.
But the arena was properly illuminated, and it roamed with people. They were all cheering for someone she couldn’t quite see from the top, not until she descended the stairs. There were two figures in the arena, both on horses. Their costumes matched the horses’, one green and one an obnoxious shade of pink. Annie was still searching through the heads of people when someone grabbed her sleeve.
She frowned as she turned. But she was only met with Hitch, dressed in her very own red dress, with a brown undershirt and leather corset, her hair softly curled, held back by a knitted bandana. Her silver jewelry clinked when she moved to the next seat over, patting the one she had previously sat on.
“I saved you a seat!”
Annie gave her a half smile, then sat down. She straightened her back, searching the crowd again, when Hitch elbowed her in the arm. She pointed somewhere by the foot of the arena.
“There he is,” she said, as if she’d read her mind.
Annie leaned on her elbows to get a better look. And sure enough, there he was, in all his glory. He had one camera on a tripod, probably recording the whole ordeal, and another in his hands, up to his eyes.
Hitch cleared her throat, and Annie had to try really hard not to blush, for she’d been caught staring.
“The ears really fit you, by the way,” the girl said.
Annie instinctively brought a hand up, only to be met with the elf ears he had gifted her. She’d been so swapped, she’d forgotten she was wearing them.
She turned to Hitch to thank her, but was met with her teasing grin.
“He kept insisting that these ones would compliment your features a lot more than the longer ones, and I have to give it to him– he was right.”
Annie frowned.
“He even got your skin tone right.”
“Wait,” Annie said, realisation slowly creeping into her. Her face was starting to warm up again, and not from the heat. “He got them from you?”
Hitch stopped for a minute, crooking an eyebrow at her. She stared at her, her mouth forming a little o. “Yeah,” she eventually said, as if it was the most obvious thing. She frowned, looking almost offended. “I sell these things, Annie.”
Annie frowned. “No, I know.” She fixed her eyes on him, following as he moved with the knights, making sure he got every good angle. “It’s just…” but she stopped herself, her complexion warming up.
How could it have evaded her? It was just like him.
“Anyway, I’m putting my money on Porco,” Hitch said, leaning back into her seat. “Though that costume is horrendous, I have no idea who approved of it.”
She said something else, but her voice drifted in the distance.
Annie leaned forward on her elbows, resting her chin on the back of her hand. The knights were going for each other’s throats, willing their horses closer. There was a certain kind of practiced familiarity between them as they attacked and ducked, as if they had done it a thousand times before.
But her eyes soon fixed on someone else.
Hitch was cheering by her side, her voice cutting through her thoughts. “No, don’t do that!” she’d say, throwing her hands in the air. “Come on!”
A smile pulled on Annie’s lips. Down by the food of the arena, Armin crouched over his camera, probably trying for some cool shot. He brought the camera away from his face, smiling proudly at it. Then he turned on his heels, taking a few shots of the crowd. Annie found herself straightening slightly. When he looked at the pictures again, he seemed to freeze for a moment. But then he found her in the crowd, his eyes meeting hers like magnets drawn together, the slightest of smiles blooming on his lips.
Then he brought the camera back up and snapped another picture.
Annie’s face warmed, and her eyes widened a little when he lowered the objective and smiled that sweet smile of his, the one he usually reserved for her alone.
But then Hitch elbowed her in the ribs. Annie winced as she turned to her, but the jeweler wasn’t looking at her.
“Do you think he got my good side?”
Annie rolled her eyes, but indulged her nonetheless.
The knights’ duels lasted forever, and at some point it became repetitive, but the people cheered nonetheless. Reiner’s helmet did, in fact, only fit half of his face, and yet he managed to win duel after duel until Porco beat him in the grand finale. Annie rose with the other spectators as the two dismounted their horses and shook hands. Hange appeared in the arena, handing Porco the grand prize– a little tin trophy– and shook his hand.
Annie tried to make her way through the sea of leaving people, descending the stairs towards the foot of the arena. She was vaguely aware of Hitch trailing behind her as she elbowed left and right.
Armin was talking to Hange when she made it downstairs, showing them some picture, and they were nodding thoroughly, beaming at the results. The knights had scattered around and about, willing their horses back to their stables.
“Hell, are you fast,” said Hitch when she caught up to her, resting her palms on her knees and struggling to catch her breath.
Annie bit back a remark, when Armin turned their way, startled by the interruption. His face softened when his gaze landed on her, and he broke into a smile.
“You made it!”
Her face warmed, and she mirrored his smile, taking one step closer. She wanted to go in for a hug, when she noticed Hange’s gaze on the two of them.
“I did,” she said. “You were great.”
He brought a hand to the back of his nape, a hint of a blush spreading on his face, and started protesting when Hange cut in.
“He really was.” They clasped his shoulders with both hands, a shit eating grin on their face. “We’re so lucky to have such a talented photographer!”
Annie felt her lips pull up in a smile, a tinge of pride tugging at her chest.
“It’s really no big deal,” he muttered.
“Oh, don’t be modest, you saved us.”
His blush only deepened, but he managed a little smile nonetheless.
Hange was about to say something more, when someone called their name. When Annie whipped her head around, she was met with Levi’s frowning figure at the foot of the arena. He’d refused to dress up for the occasion, wearing his usual black pants and office shirt combo. Cleaning products were peeking out of the plastic bag in his hand, and for a second she found herself wondering what he might have been cleaning.
Knowing the man, it could have anything. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Well, good job today,” said Hange, clapping their hands. “I’ll see you folks tomorrow!” Then they sprinted away, catching up to Levi.
“I should go, too,” said Hitch. She stretched her arms above her head, yawning.
Annie nodded, and bid her goodbye– but Hitch had other plans, for she leaned in for a hug. Annie put an arm around her awkwardly, returning the hug.
“See you tomorrow!” she called, disappearing up the stairs.
Armin called out an absent bye of his own, which the jeweler didn’t seem to catch.
Annie turned to Armin with a smile, finding him looking through the pictures with a frown on his face. She put her arms around his neck and pecked his cheek, which seemed to wash away his nerves, if only a little, for his face softened.
“Stop being so hard on yourself,” she said, peeking over at the little screen.
He sighed, then wrapped his arm around her waist, his eyes glued to the screen as he clicked through the pictures.
“They’re not half bad, I’ll admit that.”
Annie hummed, leaning her head against his shoulder. He stopped at a certain picture, and she soon realised that it was one of her, taken from a bit of a distance. The background was a little blurred, and her face wasn’t exactly into focus– she must have been moving– but her smile shone even through the lens.
“At least the zoom-in is good,” Armin muttered.
Annie rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue, much like he had earlier in the day. As if that was enough of a counter argument. It made him chuckle. He turned the camera off at last, letting it hang from his neck. When he bent down to kiss her, he tasted sweet.
Here is my entry for day 2 of Aruaniversary 2025, prompt used: Anniversary. Hope you enjoy! 🤍
@aruani-week-2025
The sun was starting to set, coloring the village in shades of yellow and orange, and Armin was still not done with dinner. They said they'd meet at dusk, and have dinner together, to celebrate their second anniversary. Annie would be there any minute now.
He rolled his sleeve up, careful not to get it dirty, and checked the oven again. The steam hit him in the face, and he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid it. But when it cleared out and he managed to get a good look at his attempt for dinner, the chicken didn’t look half cooked and his potatoes were still tough to touch.
Armin closed the oven door with a sigh and sat on the floor in front of it, staring at it as if that would will the food to cook faster. He really should have come home sooner. But the kids had had questions, and he hated sending them home without answers. He’d only been teaching for a few months, his position with the villagers was still uncertain– though the kids seemed to take a liking to him.
He ran a hand down his face. At least he was done with the bread and roasted eggplant salad. If he played this well enough, maybe he’d manage to make it seem like it was all part of his plan.
A distant meow made his head snap up and his eyes widen. He soon relaxed when his eyes landed on the black cat gingerly sitting on the windowsill, waving its tail around, glowing eyes fixed on him. His face melted into a smile.
“I have nothing to give you.”
The cat meowed again, sounding almost disappointed. It stilled its tail and curled up on the windowsill, its stare never wavering. Armin stood up, dusting his shirt, making sure to smoothen it, his fingers lingering over the blue rectangles embroidered on the chest of it. It was an old thing, one of his father’s, and it sat a little loose on his shoulders, but he’d done his best to clean it for the occasion and mend any tears.
He petted the cat, smiling when it pushed its little head into his hand and started purring. He had no idea whose cat it was, really, but the little fluff ball oftentimes came around and he’d taken to feeding it. It liked the attention.
There was a low knock on his door. His heart skipped a beat. He abandoned the cat in the kitchen– it protested with an annoyed meow– and strode all the way to the front door.
He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door.
And there she was, in all her glory. She wasn’t looking at him, admiring the grapevine growing so near the door that it almost took over it. There was a wooden basket in her hands, covered with a white cloth, but he didn’t let his eyes linger on that, for her appearance took his breath away.
Her hair was neatly braided in a low bun, the front pieces framing her face perfectly, and her lips were rosy. She was wearing a richly embroidered blouse, rows of red flowers and green leaves neatly sewn on the chest and on the length of the sleeves, with a skirt to match. It was black all over, except for the front, which faded into a deep green, and it was tied at the waist with a simple girdle, hugging her form perfectly.
Armin found himself admiring the hard work behind it, and then another thought occurred to him– her embroidery was always so breath-taking. How was he going to present her with that simple blouse he’d made when she was so skilled at it?
Heat creeped into his face, and he found himself feeling rather small. What was he thinking, gifting such a simple thing to the mayor’s daughter of all people?
But his worries soon melted away when he heard her voice, sweet and grounding.
“Hi,” she said.
His heart skipped a beat when she graced him with a smile.
“Hi.”
He leaned down and pecked her lips, then beckoned her in, taking the basket from her hands as she took her shoes off. It was a little heavy, and he found himself wondering what she could have brought in it– dinner was on him after all.
“It smells heavenly in here,” Annie mused.
His face warmed. A wave of embarrassment washed over him as he scratched his nape.
“Dinner's almost ready.”
He guided her through his little home, away from his humble bedroom at the very entrance and through the small hallway, all the way to the kitchen. He set the basket on the table, next to the freshly baked bread. He ran his hands down the white table cloth, making sure it was neatly laid.
“Since when do you have a cat?” she asked.
Armin chuckleed. When he looked up, he found Annie already petting the cat. The little ball of fluff pushed its head into her hand, purring loudly. A little smile was adorning Annie’s lips, and he found himself basking into the sight.
“It's not really mine, though it keeps coming around for food.”
Annie hummed. When she retrieved her hand, the cat leaned towards her, stumbling on the windowsill.
She moved through the kitchen as if it were second nature, and she fit so well he wished she'd stay forever. But he knew she couldn't.
“How long are you staying?”
“My father's coming back tomorrow evening,” she mused, taking a plate covered in white cloth from the basket and setting it on the table. “So, I think, until the afternoon?"
She took the cloth away, revealing a pie. It looked heavenly, perfectly round and golden on the surface. The smell of cherries invaded his nostrils.
Armin hummed, though he couldn’t help the way his heart stung at the thought of her leaving so soon.
Annie folded the cloth and put it back into the basket, then turned back towards him with a smile.
“Would that do?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I don't think that’s merely enough time,” he said. His hands found their way to her waist and settled just above the girdle.
She chuckled, then pecked his lips. She tasted like roses. “You'll be sick of me by morning.”
He frowned. “I'll never get enough of you.”
Annie rolled her eyes theatrically, though her smile only widened.
“Aren't you sweet.”
She pecked his lips again, and this time when she drew away he only leaned in, finding her lips again. Annie smiled into the kiss but didn't protest, kissing him back with just as much longing. His arms fully wrapped around her frame and he brought her closer, until there wasn’t any space left between them.
The weeks spent apart caught up to him at once, and he found himself basking in her scent and the softness of her lips, in the weight of her arms on his shoulders, in her fingers slowly tangling in his hair.
Oh, how he'd missed her. If he could live in a feeling, it would be that of Annie in his arms, for it felt like coming home.
The cat meowed, loudly, the sound making them jerk apart. Armin wiped his head around and threw it a pointed glare. The cat didn’t seem to mind, for it meowed again, staring him in the eye. Armin pouted at it– how dare it interrupt such an intimate moment?
But Annie only chuckled, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“It's a really cute cat.”
“It’s only here for the food,” he said pointedly. It made her laugh, the sound caressing his soul, and he soon joined in.
But it was short-lived, for Annie peeled herself away from him. He found he immediately missed her warmth.
“I have something for you,” she said.
Armin peeked over her shoulder as she started rummaging through her basket. She pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes.
“Where is it?” she screeched through her teeth. “I was so sure I packed it.”
Armin couldn’t help a smile. She stopped her rummaging, drawing back only to stare at the basket’s contents. Then her eyes widened.
“Oh!” she beamed. She went to grab whatever it was she had been looking for, when Armin remembered that he, too, had a gift ready.
“Wait!”
He caught her elbow before she got the chance to pull it out. Annie looked at him curiously, tilting her head to the side. Her golden earring twinkled in the dying light coming from the window, as a little reminder of what side of the village Annie belonged to. For a second he felt almost foolish.
It was easy to forget the differences between them. She was never one to sing her own praises, and he knew she despised it. But it was moments like this that it hit him in the face that, as much as she didn’t want to mention it, they were not the same. Nor could they ever be the same.
But when Annie smiled up at him, his worries melted away. Maybe it didn’t even matter.
“I have something for you, too,” he said, and her face brightened up. “I was thinking that we could exchange gifts,” he added when she said nothing.
Her face softened. “Oh.” She smiled, retrieving her hand and crossing it behind her back. “Of course.”
Armin pecked the shell of her ear, then made for the bedroom, where he’d stored his gift in the topmost drawer of his wooden wardrobe. He smoothened the fabric, pressing his lips together as he looked at it. For a second he debated whether it was even worth it to show it to her. But he’d worked so hard on it, and he knew how much she liked the blue.
He took a deep breath in, gathering his courage.
When he returned to the kitchen, he found Annie sitting on the bench, the cat sitting gingerly on her lap, purring loudly. She was scratching its ears, moving her hand as the cat wanted, and had such a candid smile on her face that it made him stop in his tracks. Armin leaned against the door frame, observing her.
She truly did fit into his home perfectly. Maybe it was the sun, or the fact that Annie could make any space her own, but there was something about her sitting so casually on the bench, her shoulders relaxed and features soft, with his family’s tapestry hung on the wall behind her, that made his heart skip a beat. It complimented her features perfectly, the deep blue of the woven threads complimenting her light hair and white blouse.
He could bask in the sight of her forever.
But it was short-lived, for the cat snapped its little head up and, without even opening its eyes, meowed up at him. A devious little meow, dragged out as if deliberating drawing attention.
Annie raised her gaze. Armin hid his hands behind his back before she could see what he was holding.
“I didn’t see you there.”
He smiled, stepping away from the door. He glanced at the oven as he walked towards the bench– there seemed to be no progress on his dinner– and sat in front of her on the floor, crossing his legs, arms still behind his back. Annie raised an eyebrow.
“What do you have there?” she nodded towards his arms.
His smile only widened. He adored that curious glint that transversed her eyes when she was intrigued.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
She narrowed her eyes, but her complexion picked up color nonetheless and she looked away. The cat sat up and arched its back, then slowly waddled away, curling up on the bench.
“You could mention it more,” Annie muttered, still not looking at him.
Armin chuckled. “Well, you’re beautiful.”
Annie made a show of rolling her eyes, but she was smiling all the same when she turned to him. “Will you just give me my gift already?”
“Oh, aren’t you greedy?” he teased.
But he took his arms out from behind his back anyway. He hesitated, biting down on his tongue, then settled it on his lap.
“It’s really not that much,” he warned.
But when he finally handed it to her, her eyes widened. Annie unfolded the blouse, holding it up in whatever light there was left. Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything, staring at it with such wide eyes it made his heart skip a beat.
“Oh, Armin,” her voice was small, barely above a whisper. He had to lean in closer to hear it.
She lowered it onto her lap and ran her fingers over the pattern. The diamonds in various shades of blue running in one column on the front, framed by two thin rows of grapevines sewn in black, the same grapevine patterns running along the neckline and the hem of the sleeves.
Annie looked up at him at last, her eyes wide and glossy. “Armin, this is beautiful.”
His face warmed. “Do you like it?”
“I love it, are you kidding?” She glanced down again, running her fingertips across the neckline.
Armin chuckled, relieved. “Those grapevines really gave me a headache, I didn’t think it’d be ready in time.”
She frowned, then snapped her head up at once. “You made this?”
His face warmed. He lowered his gaze, brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “I did,” he finally admitted.
She fell quiet, and for a second he thought he’d truly done it. He heard some shuffling, and next thing he knew, Annie was kneeling next to him and throwing her arms around his shoulders. His eyes widened, but his hand instinctively found its way to the small of her back.
“Oh, Armin, but I love it,” she said. She cupped his face in between her palms and pecked his cheek, and then the other one. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”
He huffed out a little laugh. “It’s really not that much.”
Annie clicked her tongue. “It is to me,” she said.
He wanted to protest again, but when he met her eyes he relented. There was a certain kind of adoration behind them that always silenced him, and he fell quiet in the face of her love. He never knew what to do when she looked at him that way.
“Thank you,” she said, kissing his lips, short and sweet. “For the blouse.” Another kiss, this time firmer. “And for all these years.”
“Thank you,” he said, but she recaptured his lips before he could finish his thought.
But he soon realised that he truly could not finish the thought at all. Everything was too small a word to convey it all.
So he just kissed her back, over and over again until he was fully engulfed in the scent of her.
Annie drew away, sitting back on the heels of her feet. “You might want to check on that dinner,” she mused, and only now did he realise that it was starting to smell a little burnt in the room.
Armin cursed under his breath and jumped to his feet, vaguely aware of Annie chuckling behind him. Steam hit him in the face when he opened the oven. He grabbed two towels and pulled the tray out, setting it on the counter.
“I think dinner is ready,” he said. He pressed his lips together, staring down at the food. The skin on the chicken was only a little burned, and if anything the potatoes were a tad too golden.
Annie came behind him, peeking over his shoulder as he cut up the chicken. Her hand ghosted over his back, and if he hadn’t been holding a knife he would have leaned into her touch.
“That looks good.”
She opened the cabinet and retrieved two plates.
“I can handle that,” he said.
“I know you can,” she smiled. She set the table, then returned for cutlery.
He frowned. “You’re the guest here, you really don’t have to.”
Annie scoffed, but didn’t give it up, taking to setting the table instead. Armin brought the chicken and potatoes over and set the tray in the middle of the table. He drew back to admire his work, when he noticed the book on the corner of the table. He narrowed his eyes.
“What is this?”
Annie smiled, bringing her arms behind her back. “My gift for you.”
His face softened. He ran the tip of his finger across the black cover, with a simple inscription of the one word title on the front. He opened it, squinting at the first page, trying to make out the author.
His eyes widened, and his face melted into a smile. “Oh, I know this guy.”
Annie smiled. “I thought you would.”
“But I thought they’d banned his work.”
Her smile only broadened. “They did.”
“Then how did you…” but he trailed back. Of course she would.
Armin closed the book and fully turned to face her. Her eyes were already on him, studying him thoroughly.
“Thank you,” he said. He pecked her lips, and she smiled into it.
“It’s really not that much,” she mused, repeating his word back to him.
Armin huffed out a little laugh. He cupped her face, making her look at him, and for a second her eyes widened. But then her face softened, and she brought her hand over his, her fingers grazing his pulse lightly.
“It is to me.”
He kissed her again, and this time he took the time to fully take it in. He tilted her head up the tiniest bit, just enough to deepen the kiss, and she sighed against his lips, her hold on his wrist tightening slightly. But then she parted her lips, and he wasted no time to take the invitation. Armin sneaked his other hand around her waist, bringing her closer to him.
Her chest was heaving when they parted again, gasping for air. Annie’s lips were swollen, and her face flushed. He placed a kiss to her jaw, making her shudder, and another to her neck, taking pride in the way she sighed.
He kissed up to her lips again, pecking them shortly before pressing his forehead against hers. Annie brought her hand over his chest, right above his heart, and closed her eyes. His arms came around her once more, and he found himself marveling at just how good it felt to stand like this, with his love in his arms and nothing but the rising moon as their witness.
Her voice was low when she spoke, barely above a whisper. “Armin?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you help me put the blouse on after dinner?”
His heart skipped a beat. She must have felt it, for her lips twitched up and she opened her eyes.
“Of course.”
She searched his eyes for a moment, for what he didn’t know. But then she smiled, as if she’d found what she was looking for.
“And then will you help me take it off, along with everything else?”
