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llisi · 2 years ago

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AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 4)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, not really a slowburn

☰ CHAPTER FOUR. armin's confidence

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: You and Armin tackle one of his insecurities. Later that night, things somehow get a little too close for comfort.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: none

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

(tumblr labeled the table of contents as mature, so make sure visibility is on if you want to see)

Nighttime had fallen at a snail's pace—so horribly and painstakingly slow to the point where you had nothing to do at home but remind yourself about the fact that you had disappeared on Eren and Mikasa. Even worse, you'd left right after your last few text messages, specifically the one saying you had been there.

So far, nothing from either of them. You wondered if they'd even read what you had sent.

The moment you decided to finally apologize and fill them in on your whereabouts, your phone suddenly rang.

A call from Eren.

Oh, speak of the devil.

It had been two hours since you'd last seen him and since you'd last left with Armin. You hastily picked up his call with fumbling fingers.

"Where are you?"

His voice echoed loudly from your palms, gruff and agitated. He sounded more angry, more frantic than you were expecting, and you instantly felt the guilt creep into your veins. You would've called him sooner if Armin hadn't been engrossing you in an embarrassing story that he told a little too loudly at your restaurant table.

"I'm at home," you answered plainly.

"Sorry, I meant, where were you? Why'd you two leave Trost’s Kitchen?"

You wondered how he knew that you'd left their restaurant. It didn't take an idiot to take a look around and see how that all of the tables were occupied, but the confidence he spoke with unsettled you.

If he knew, then why hadn't he said anything earlier? You didn't blame him, though. He looked like he was having a good time. In fact, you hadn't texted for the same reason.

You were convinced it was as if he called you because he just wanted to hear the reason for himself—as if he insisted you had been somewhere else other than your home.

As if he'd expected you and Armin to run off.

You suddenly blanched at your thinking. You were sure the more rational reason was that Eren probably realized how busy and packed Trost's Kitchen was.

Jabbing at your volume button, you quickly explained, "I'm so sorry, Eren. The line there was long, so Armin and I ate somewhere else. I forgot to tell you earlier."

Then, nothing.

Nothing but the static of your phone and the distant hum of your air conditioning.

You were so, so guiltily aware of the silence on the other end of the line.

Glancing at your screen, you finally heard Eren's breath hitch amidst the drone of white noise. Then, a breath of hesitance.

"Oh really...?"

He paused.

"You two are always leaving us."

This time, you paused. Pressing your lips together, you let your entire face simmer into a slow confusion.

Always?

In the split second before you had left Trost's Kitchen, you hadn't been the slightest bit hesitant to leave, not when Armin had been holding out his hand so invitingly, but a greedy, Eren-shaped inkling inside of you had told you otherwise—told you that you would've been willing to stay.

You hadn't realized you were holding your breath until long after he'd finished his sentence.

Always…?

His words rang in your head again. You could clearly hear the disappointment in his voice and vividly picture that twitch of dejectedness on his face when something upset him.

"Eren, what do you mean?"

"You two just…always leave together. Out of nowhere."

He stopped himself for a second, and you could only assume he was ruminating over his words.

"Never mind, actually. It’s okay, don’t worry. We can eat together next time, okay? Night, Y/N."

Was he truly upset? You didn't think it was that big of a big deal, nor did you think he'd care. Things happen, right?

"Night, Eren."

You couldn't tell who hung up first.

Maybe it was all just a misunderstanding. Maybe you were too caught up in the scene, saw them both together, and ran with it. Maybe it was a friendly outing and that was the just nature of their friendship—when they were alone, at least.

The nature of their...friendship.

God, you were starting to overthink again.

How could you not when you had witnessed Eren, your best friend (who you liked a little more than a best friend), and Mikasa, your other best friend, getting along in a way that suggested they were more than friends?

Not that you had gotten uselessly butthurt and let it ruin your night, but it wasn’t something that you had expected.

You sighed. Today's evening ended in a certain guilt that you couldn't seem to scratch off. You guessed it’d be better to leave it alone. The night offered you good things, too, like Armin getting a haircut and treating you to dinner.

You needed to thank him for that some more. He had kept true to his words, made up for leaving, and bought you your favorite meal—without having to ask you where and what you wanted to eat.

Armin was such a sweet friend, wasn't he?

"Y/N, you can choose."

As soon as you had gotten off work the next day, you were quick to accept Armin's offer for a movie night. He was at your apartment to pick you up in a matter of minutes.

What was supposed to be a short visit to the supermarket for movie snacks turned into a long rendezvous to fulfill Armin's grocery shopping list. You were hoping he'd stop once you'd passed by the same frozen foods section for the third time, but he continued his trek down the aisle one more time.

Now standing blindly in the middle of a different aisle, you peered at the shelves of big-branded, colorful chip bags. From the corner of your eye, you saw Armin fiddle with a price tag holder as he awaited your response.

"Let's get these," you suggested, extending your hand.

Before you had the chance to pull the bag from the shelf, he reached it first, plastic crinkling in his hand as he tossed it into the cart.

"Good choice," he chimed.

The shopping cart was moving now, rattling in tandem with the taps of his shoes and the mellow syllables of his voice. Your steps fell into a rhythmic pattern next to his own.

Armin turned to you with a smooth grin. "Do you want to eat my mom's cooking tonight, or do you prefer we buy something? We can order your favorite again."

"Your mom's cooking, for sure. I've missed it."

He beamed, eyes creasing cheerfully at the corners. "I'll make sure she makes extra, then."

Armin sounded excited, almost boyish, and you could see the young, childish, long-haired Armin peeking through the cracks of his innocent smile.

As your eyes flitted away from his wide grin and creased eyes, you were reminded of his short hair. You didn't think you'd ever get used to his new haircut, or if you'll ever be not surprised when you see him. It was so weird—but so good.

He looked pretty.

You two were a short stroll away from checkout when you spotted someone you knew, lingering on their phone just a few steps past the cashiers and near the joint Starbucks cafe. Someone with a familiar head of buzzed hair and a stupid, lopsided grin.

"Connie?" you blurted, earning you a weird look from Armin. "Look over there. You wanna say hi?"

The cart rolled to a slow stop, metal rattling against the friction.

“That means he's going to be the first to see my hair."

You watched him run nimble fingers through his blonde tresses. A few odd strands stuck up comically, but if anything, you thought it made him look cuter. His face, strewn together with worried brows, fluttered closer to what you think was trepidation. And maybe, just maybe, you began to see a trace of familiar insecurity.

"Armin, are you still set on it being a surprise?" you jabbed. In return, he smiled shyly, as if you caught him in the act.

"It won't be a surprise after Connie sees. You know he won't keep quiet." Armin chuckled and shook his head. "I'm going to check out first. I'll meet you guys over there."

The smile he waved you off with was angelic. It pulled gently and sweetly at the corners of his lips, but…it was avoidant. Avoidant and insecure at the thought of someone seeing him.

You didn't get a chance to reciprocate it before he walked off.

"Connie!"

At the call of his name, Connie perked up, eyeing you as you strode to him. He was quick to shoot you an eager, crooked smile.

"Y/N? You're here, too? Didn't expect to run into you." Holding onto his Starbucks cup and still smiling, he tapped your arm as a sign of a friendly greeting.

Before you could even muster a reply, your mouth shut quickly, and you were met with the cold, wet feeling of his cup against your skin. You looked to your side, seeing water pellets trickling down the slope of your arm, wet from the condensate of his Starbucks drink.

In front of you, Connie burst out laughing, leaving you to glower at him.

You wiped at your damp arm with a grimace. "You dumbass," you chided.

Connie only laughed harder, loud and hearty, relishing your sour expression. "Sorry."

He most definitely was not sorry.

You glanced around, hoping that he'd either calm down or laugh quieter because he was attracting an unsettling amount of onlookers from the Starbucks nearby. Neither of those things happened when you hear the sound of Connie's "oh shit!" and the clamor of noisy ruckus and plastic.

You looked down. Connie had just dropped his store-bought container of rotisserie chicken.

Now, it was your turn to laugh. "Connie, why the hell do you have a whole rotisserie chicken?" You had seen it earlier, previously wedged between his arm and torso, but it had now fallen to a sad spot on the supermarket floor.

He rolled his eyes. "You already know Sasha is a pig."

You stood there stupidly with an equally stupid smile, shifting in your shoes as you scrutinized the way he picked up the container from the floor. Something weird always happened when you were around Connie.

"Oh yeah, Y/N, wanna come to my apartment on Saturday?"

You shot him a suggestive look, raising a brow. "Alone?"

His face twisted wryly, and he scoffed at your insinuation. "No! With everybody! Unless..." he challenged, but quickly shook his head when you clicked your tongue. "I was just about to tell the group chat. You coming?"

"Yeah," you began, watching him abruptly swivel around when the barista called his name. "I'll be there."

"That's my order." He motioned to the coffee shop, then glanced at the cup that was already in his hand. "I forgot to get Jean's drink."

You sighed. "You're so dumb that it's laughable."

He pretended not to hear you, but you saw that not-so-subtle eye roll. "Whatever, I'll text you the details, okay? See you!"

And Connie was off.

And you were suddenly startled by a voice behind you.

"Hi, Y/N. Connie left?" Armin shuffled up next to you, pushing the shopping cart that was now filled with grocery bags.

"Mhm," you hummed, "He just left."

"Aw, that sucks."

"Did you purposely avoid him so he wouldn't see your hair?"

He strolled past you, barely letting you catch a glimpse of his faint, smug, and cunning little smile. "No. Why would I do that?"

But the warm, sheepish laugh that betrayed him gave it all away. Like a contagious melody to your ears, you couldn't help but laugh along as you caught up to him.

The moment the two of made it past the exit doors, you were abruptly struck with the late-afternoon sunlight.

Summertime had been pretty relentless lately, and you never did like the hot weather. You were willing to push past that hate to enjoy the peaceful afternoon, but everything was far from your goal of peace. You couldn't quite shake off the downcast of bright light, the incessant screech of the rattling shopping cart against the bumpy pavement, and a new nagging thought in your head.

The walk to his car felt...oddly domestic.

You wondered if Armin was aware of it too, the way he coincidentally threw you a glance. You ignored the scrutiny of his curious eyes and faced ahead.

Attempting to distract yourself from your weird thoughts, you turned to Armin. "Connie wants us to hang out at his place on Saturday. We should go."

He nodded slowly in thought, lips curling into a pleased expression. "Sure. I'm free."

Against your better judgment, you disregarded how off-putting his smile looked, and how ominously his eyes glinted beneath the afternoon sun.

"I'll go anywhere you go," he affirmed.

His almost affectionate answer didn't phase you, not in the slightest, not until Eren's words from last night suddenly came crashing down on you.

You two are always leaving us.

Maybe Eren was right. Armin did seem to follow you wherever you go, and you to him. Even when he asked to hang out, you agreed in a heartbeat, and with Armin's admittance, there was nothing to deny about Eren's observation.

God, it really does seem like it, doesn't it?

You realized how much it had happened recently. Armin following you down Eren's stairs when you left to turn up the air conditioning. Armin taking you home after a day of cleaning at Eren's house. The two of you ditching Eren and Mikasa at the restaurant.

Oh, god, another wave of realization.

The air conditioning. Eren's backyard porch. Where it all started.

"Armin?"

"Yeah?" he mirrored, sparing you a curious blue-eyed glance, blinking away the glare of sunlight ricocheting off his pupils. He leaned in ever-so-subtly, attention tuning into you.

"Do you remember last Saturday? When we fell asleep at Eren's house?" You could see your silhouette in the reflection of his pupils, and you could only hope your worry didn't translate onto your face. "What did you say to Mikasa and Eren before you followed me?"

As the shopping cart took a sharp turn toward his car, it fell silent. The only indication that he heard you was his contemplative stare and the hesitant tremble on his lips.

"Um..." He pulled the trunk open, misty blue eyes distant and unblinking. "Nothing. I didn't say anything. Why? Did something happen?"

Eren's words resurfaced in your head once more.

You two are always leaving us.

You paled at the looming insinuation of you and Armin doing something more—being something more, and how it might've seemed that way to Eren. Knowing that Armin hadn't said anything and left on his own accord make it all the more suspicious.

You and Armin wouldn’t be anything more, right?

The rustle of plastic brought you back to the blonde boy beside you, absentmindedly sliding the shopping bags into the trunk.

Lifting a plastic bag from the cart, you dismissed his question, "No, nothing happened."

His lips curled into an understanding smile. At least, that was what you hoped it was.

Trunk slamming shut, you quickly shuffled away to open the passenger door, Armin following suit on his side. Before you could even fully sit down, you peered out the driver's window just in time to witness Armin getting knocked forward by the neighboring car door.

You heard a muffled "Ah!" escape his mouth as he clutched the shirt fabric of his back, and you didn't have time to register your initial shock when the culprit stepped out with hands over her mouth.

Hitch?

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking!" you heard, although still muffled, from inside the car.

Armin swiftly turned around, his shock replaced by even more as they met eye-to-eye.

"Hitch?" The corners of his lips twitched in surprise, bows furrowing incredulously.

Hitch returned his expression, eyes widening until you swear her lashes touched her eyebrows. She leaned closer to his face as her mouth hangs open. "Armin? Oh my God. You got a haircut? I haven't seen you in so long.”

Instinctively, his hand went to grasp his hair. "Oh, yeah...!"

Breathing out a soft laugh, she grinned. "Wow, it looks great. This is really different."

This was a strange situation; you were stuck inside Armin's car, listening and watching as he spoke to Hitch (meeting her was a coincidence in itself) while she was clueless about your presence. In a supermarket parking lot, no less. If Connie were still here (which was a coincidence that you'd met him here, too), it would've been a lot weirder.

Armin pressed his lips together into a shy smile as the apples of his cheeks reddened, discreetly flickering you a nervous glance through the car window. "Thank you," he mumbled.

At this, Hitch shook her head. "You're so cute and innocent. Still the same as ever."

You smiled to yourself. What an unusual compliment. You were sure she meant no harm, but judging by the tension in his stance and the reluctant twitch at the corner of his lips, you started to think it wasn't so harmless.

The moment he opened his mouth to reply, she quickly turned to the sound of her name being called from behind her.

"I gotta go now." She gestured to her friend. "What a coincidence we met here, right? See you, Armin."

With a slow, sure smile, Armin finally eased from his awkward position, offering her a friendly wave. "Yeah, see you."

He shot her one more glance, and then you were suddenly hit with three things all in the span of what you swore was just a second: the door clicking open, the door shutting close, and the shuffle of his thighs hitting the seat.

"What a coincidence," you echoed.

For a moment, it was quiet, only the distant rattle of metal shopping carts and the slamming of trunks. Armin stilled, tense hands hovering the wheel almost ghostly, shrewd eyes unblinking and staring into nothing.

"Is that how people view me?" Armin's voice rang out, a clear tenor resonating in the calm silence. His hands were now away from the steering wheel and instead shoved inside his pockets, fishing for his car keys.

As the jangling and clattering filled your senses, you were left with no other option than to question him. "What do you mean?"

He wedged his keys into the socket, twisting until the engine whirred to a start, overlapping the sound of his exasperation. "Is that how people view me? I'm just so...I'm so cute and innocent. I don't want that. I don't—I don't like that."

You finally saw it now. You saw the shell—the fragile, little shell that he hid behind all this time. It was so clear, so telling, so reminiscent of the timid boy that used to cling to you when his insecurities deluded him.

"It was nice to hear these types of compliments at first, but it feels demeaning now, as if...as if people are looking down at me and seeing some weak, geeky, innocent kid that doesn't know any better. Makes me feel...inferior."

God, you felt bad. You'd be a fool for not catching onto his self-esteem issues—everyone would be a fool for not catching onto his self-esteem issues, and yet no one did anything. It was there, lingering, but never long enough nor clear enough for a real conversation.

You turned away with a frown. "Then, what do you want to be seen as?"

He inhaled sharply, but his final breath is barely audible to you, fluttering out in a hesitant rhythm. His eyes were trained on the road as he squinted and pondered over his words.

This was the second time this week that you were wrapped up in a personal conversation in his car.

Remind yourself to be careful next time.

"I don't know. Just not what I am right now," he muttered. "I want to be confident and, and—"

For a quiet moment, you listened to Armin stumble over his words. And when he finally gulped, he continued in a weighty whisper as you leaned in.

"Not a nerd. Not a lame, good kid. I want to be appealing. I want to be seen in a confident light. In a—in a sexual light." He was almost gulping down his words, shy and uncertain and...embarrassed.

And you, on the other hand, felt your cheeks involuntarily heat up. There was nothing inherently dirty about his words; it was just that you wouldn't have guessed he wanted to be like that.

With a long sigh, you replied, "I understand you, Armin. Um, I've known you felt this way for a while."

You had to know. You were aware of his image. After all, you had seen him grow up, seen the way he talked to people, heard all the things people said about him. Being close to him, you were privy to a lot of his thoughts, a lot of the sides that most people didn't see.

Except for this one.

The romantic, sexual side of Armin. Gosh, you didn't think there was one. Not yet, at least. You needed to be the person who helped him build it.

Even as you pondered what'd he'd be like (Would he get a lot of attention? How would he talk to people?) your thoughts abandoned you and drifted back to that guileless, pure, pretty-boy face of his.

Maybe you were just like Hitch. Just like everyone else.

When you didn't hear him answer, you felt an aching jab of regret swell in your gut.

"Armin, how about…" You clasped your hands together, playing with your thumbs as you cast him a glance. “…we work on it right now?"

"Wh—"

The car suddenly swerved.

You yelped. It sent you rocking to the side, pressing you against the door momentarily and leaving you steadying yourself on the dashboard.

"Armin!"

"Wait, what?"

He sounded worried, voice faltering and cracking a pitch. He looked like he saw a ghost, wide, frantic eyes and mouth agape in a way that confused you as you sat dumbfounded.

"What was that?!" You snapped your head towards him.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry! It's just that—" He frowned nervously, apprehension washing over his face. "Work on what? W—what do you mean by that?"

You sent him a quizzical look, one that almost mimicked his, as he brought a nervous hand to scratch at his neck. "What do you mean?" You jabbed an accusing finger at him.

"Um, you said we should work on it. I thought you—thought you meant...me being seen in a sexual..." he stuttered, cutting himself off as shame seeped into his red cheeks. His mouth was pressed together, and his hand quickly came to card through his hair anxiously. "Oh, God. Never mind."

Oh my God. You felt your face heat up and flush, and you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or the dirty weight behind his words. He was next to you, shoulders tense and a flustered frown, and you instinctively averted your gaze to the window beside you.

"No, no! I mean, like, we can work on your confidence!" You shook your head. Gosh, how do you even recover from this? "You know, practice talking."

"Oh, oh. Yeah, um, we can do that. I'm so sorry," he rambled, a deep—almost shamefully deep—blush still dusting his cheekbones. Armin rolled his shoulders in what seemed like an attempt to relax, and you unconsciously mirrored him in turn.

"Okay, first, from what I saw with you and Hitch, make eye contact. It's just good to engage, and you'll look more confident. Simple, right?"

"Eye contact. Got it.”

"Let's practice, then." You humored him with a challenging stare. "Right now."

"Right now? But I'm driv—"

"Now."

His head immediately swiveled to you, and Armin briefly met your gaze, fear etched into his crinkled eyes, but the moment ran short-lived before the car swerved slightly. Again.

"Sorry! I got nervous." Admin's worry quickly dissipated into agitation. "I shouldn't have listened to you, Y/N,” he sighed.

You burst into laughter, releasing your hand from where it was clutching the door. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I just wanted to mess with you."

Armin huffed in regret, but his pressed lips soon succumbed to that familiar, genuine smile. You knew he was weak to your jokes.

"Okay, you ready for the next thing?" You looked at him for affirmation, and he gave you a cute nod. "Next, talk to people like you already know them, like you're already friends. I guess just...try to open up."

"How?"

"Hm, you can tell them about yourself. Depending on the situation, try filling the other person in on what just happened. Don't be afraid to joke around and be sarcastic. But, still be nice about it, you know, be you."

"Oh, okay okay."

"Oh! And another little thing, mirroring is good. If someone asks you a question, ask it again, and then answer it. It's more of like a teasing thing."

As the familiar array of brick walls and wood paneling and colored roofs filled your field of vision, you realized you were in Armin's neighborhood now. It was peaceful here—it always had been—and you were suddenly reminiscing about your childhood weekends playing on Armin's front lawn.

"I'll use you and Hitch as an example. You'll be Hitch, and I'll be you, okay? Ask me if I got a haircut."

He chuckled and flashed you a curious look. "Okay. Did you get a haircut?"

"A haircut? Yeah, got it yesterday. Feels weird, I've never had my hair this short before."

Armin's head drooped in laughter—and maybe embarrassment, bringing a hand to push back his bangs as he lifted his head. "Wow, amazing acting, Y/N." The car lightly rocked when he turned into his house's driveway, and his eyes drifted to your expectant stare.

"What, you don't like my haircut?" Your lips curl into a frown, and you batted your eyelashes innocently, a likely awful attempt at pleading. You cocked your head to the side.

He briskly shook his head, stammering, "No! No, I think it's great! Wait I mean—" Armin caught himself, smiling and laughing bashfully to himself as he twisted his car keys from the engine. It whirred to a baritone stop. "This isn't even real." He laughed.

His laughter contaminated you, sweetly ringing through your ears. "See, those are the kind of jokes you should make. It sort of flusters the other person. But don't do the face I made. That was a joke."

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Armin grinned wryly. "Trust me, I won't."

Before unbuckling yours, you punch him lightly in the arm. "Real funny, Armin. I like this sarcastic side of you."

The two of you stumbled out of his car, and the snap of the trunk door, the click of the doorknob, and the ruffle of grocery bags all passed in a moment you barely remembered.

Nighttime approached, and this time, it fell much faster and much more pleasantly than yesterday.

With the hours ticking by, you found yourself snuggled next to Armin, arm-to-arm and thigh-to-thigh beneath the weight of soft blankets and the drone of the TV. Some typical, cheesy romance drama. It was your last resort really, and he insisted that you both watch something new.

Armin was mindlessly holding the bowl of chips, fingers laying loosely around the rim as the contents almost tipped over. But you didn’t fix it; instead, you reached out a hand and plucked a chip from the bowl. He looked disoriented, almost entranced—a little too entranced—by the television screen.

By now, his parents had been long asleep. It was just you two in the dim light of his living room.

Just the two of you.

God, you were a hypocrite.

After what felt like an hour of stillness, you finally broke the silence.

"That's going to be you and Annie one day." You pointed at the screen.

Armin stole a glance at your face with sleepy, lidded eyes, pupils shrinking and dilating in the change of light. He peered back at the TV. It was the main couple, who finally kiss after a million episodes. The scene was corny, fake even, and the actors barely looked like they were really kissing.

He snorted. "That's if I get her to even fall for me. I doubt I have what it takes." A sigh slipped from his lips.

"Armin, I don't know what you're so insecure about. I know you have what it takes. And you're good-looking, too, okay?" You ran a hand through his blonde locks. "Promise."

Armin sank into your touch, the weight of his head heavy in your palm. "Feels good when you say that," he murmured.

An unconscious, courteous smile rose to your lips. A beat of silence passed, long enough for you to zone back into the show.

"Y/N?"

You craned your neck to him. "Hm?"

He was already facing you, nose a hair's breadth away from yours. Something curious swam beneath his pupils, startlingly intense and illuminated by the blinding light of the television.

"Would you—" He pulled away tentatively, gulping hard, and then he was quickly back onto you, inching even closer. This time, you feel a ghost of a touch grazing the tip of your nose.

Here it was.

You knew it was coming. You knew he was going to ask you a question—something so personal, so heavy—that only seemed to unfurl when you and he were alone. And you could do nothing but push aside the growing anxiousness that gnawed at your thoughts.

A breath of nervousness, and he resumed.

"Would you ever help me...physically?"

It came out in a hushed, uncertain whisper. His breath swept over your lips, a feeling that made you realize how intimate this was—how you two were so, so close.

You felt your eyebrows raise, because of the short distance from your lips, the way he gulped—the way you gulped, you were starting to think this might lead to something else. He only inched closer.

"What—" you stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not really experienced in that—in that, you know, that kinda stuff." His eyes, bright and blue, slowly dragged down to your lips, then back up instantly. There was a new fear in his pupils, like he wasn't supposed to do that. "And—and I don't want to seem inexperienced in front of Annie."

At this point, you averted your gaze, but you didn't move. No, you wouldn't dare.

"Y—yeah," you breathed. "I would."

His face lit up, so subtle that you only caught it because you were this close to him. And it was warm—it was warm, his hand that was gently and carefully sliding onto your thigh. He looked so pure, so friendly. If friends even do this.

"Really?"

You didn't even realize you had said yes. Your mind was clouded, teetering a fine line between hazy and even hazier. Your heart palpitated against your chest.

His lips ghosted over yours. No, even closer than that. Your lips were just scarcely pressed against each other, almost like the drama scene you’d just watched.

It was going to happen, and you'd willingly let it happen. You closed your eyes.

And then you heard something buzzing.

Your eyes snapped open, and your gaze landed on the caller ID displayed on Armin’s phone, the brightness of its screen harsh against the darkness of the room.

A call from Eren.

No fucking way.

You reeled back in a daze, fingertips tingling with the aftershock of nervousness. You gripped the blanket with your other hand until it numbed the sensation, hoping it would ground you from what just happened.

Or what almost happened.

And Eren just called. How ironic.

Armin was a little ways off from you, cursing lowly under his breath as he accepted the call. But you sat there. You didn’t listen; their words filled your ears like cotton.

Armin shifted farther from you, head leaning into his phone. The blanket slipped down a little, and a chill ran up your spine and a wave of goosebumps hit you. Goosebumps that you swore had already been there from before.

Was this it? Was this the practice he was referring to in the car?

No, no, definitely not—you knew he meant much more.

If you learned something today it was that one, you'd gotten a good scope of how he was with a girl, and two, you'd been a breath away from kissing.

From kissing. You almost kissed Armin Arlert, your best friend that you promised to help.

You pursed your lips.

Y—yeah. I would.

You couldn't go back on your word now.

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