rests a hand on Armin's shoulder.
He’s been lost since their return to the island, eyes distant, unfocused, and devoid of their usual light. Armin stares at the floor without seeing the wooden planks at his feet, thinking instead of all that’s come to pass in the last twenty-four hours, and not knowing what to do with the information. He’s always been emotional– the type that cries easily and freely, gets anxious over little things, constantly stresses over this and that– but right now he doesn’t feel anything at all, because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be feeling.
Guilt is a heavy weight on his shoulders for what he’d done to the people in the Marleyan naval port. He can still hear the voice of the soldier who’d called out to him– Hey! It’s dangerous to be on that fishing boat!– a reminder that they were just people, like Armin and his friends, doing their job, protecting their home, their families, friends, and loved ones.
He’d obliterated them all in less than a second, and without a word.
Despair is a hole in his chest when he thinks of Sasha. He can’t get the image of her on the floor, limp and lifeless in a puddle of red, from his mind. He worries that’s how he’ll remember her now. Everyone should have been safe in the airship, that’s why reaching it was the final part of the plan. She should still be here with all of them, sharing her thoughts, joking and laughing and poking fun at Connie and Jean and anyone else who gave her an opening. She should have sat with them around the dinner table tonight, sneaking things off the plates of anyone who failed to notice, and she would have, if weren’t for…
None of this would have happened, if it weren’t for…
Mikasa’s touch brings him back to reality. He turns his head to look at her, places his own hand atop hers. Ah, that’s right. He isn’t alone in this, but right now another part of him– the one that cares so deeply for his friends– wishes he was. None of them deserve this. Brave, strong, eternally loyal Mikasa least of all.
“ Mikasa, do you remember… ” His voice is so small, as if he’s about to say something taboo. Maybe he is, in a way. “ Four years ago, when Bertholdt and Reiner took Eren from the Survey Corps, you asked me why Eren’s always going away from us. ”
He lowers his gaze, thinking back to that day, before Mikasa had woken up from her injuries. He’d very nearly leapt from the wall to pursue his former comrades on foot. She’d done the same, of course, upon waking up. But that was four years ago, when Eren was still… Eren. Now? The Eren he’d helped into the airship was someone Armin didn’t know. A ruthless, revenge hungry murderer who showed not a shred of remorse for the things he’d done. A traitor who’d broken the trust of all who dared believe in him. A knife in Armin’s heart that twists when he thinks on it too much.
“ I still don’t have an answer, but… ” This is where his voice wavers ever so slightly, because he knows what he’s about to say isn’t what she wants to hear. “ I don’t– I don’t think we can chase after him anymore. ”