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withacapitalp · 1 month

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How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 20

Part Nineteen Part One Link to ao3

A huge thank you to so many people but it's especially @thefreakandthehair for betaing, being the best, and generally encouraging all of my nuttiness. Also a big shout out to Bowie ( don't remember your Tumblr my lovely!!) for doublechecking some sensititvity reading for me. Y'all rock!!!

Jeff had the decency to wait until Frank was safely in his house before he called Eddie out on his shit.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jeff sighed the second the door closed behind Frank, leaving only the snow, Eddie’s headlights, and two best friends about to have an incredibly awkward conversation.

“Driving you dicks home?” Eddie tried, hoping that he could fool Jeff into not having the uncomfortable conversation that was already beginning. He kicked the van into reverse, throwing a hand casually over Jeff’s seat as he turned and began to maneuver his way back to the road.

“Eddie.”

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t anything really. Just his name, nothing more, nothing less, but it was Jeff’s tone.

That voice, the voice he always used when he was trying to cut through Gareth and Eddie’s bullshit. Corroded Coffin had lasted all these years because of balance. Frank was their rock, steady and sure; Eddie and Gareth were the stream, bouncing and playing and whirling around in a daze; but Jeff was the earth around them. Jeff was everything, and Eddie might be their leader, but Jeff was the one that held everything together.

And he was the only one who could get Eddie to drop the act with just one word.

“Honestly, dude? I have no fucking idea what I’m doing,” Eddie sighed, slightly curling in on himself as he focused on the road. The snow was only mildly awful at the moment, but winter in Indiana could turn on a dime and Eddie wasn’t looking to run his van off the road just because Jeff was grilling him about his stupid little completely non-existent crush.

“Well, what do you want from him?” Jeff asked, dragging the first word slowly out as he thought about what he wanted to say. Sometimes the other members of Hellfire would do things like that— talk slow or choose words carefully, just to try and avoid Eddie’s sparky temper.

Unfortunately for him, Eddie was already worked up about this particular topic.

“Great question!” Eddie snapped, going to throw his hands up before choosing to be wise and hold the wheel steady. A small squall was beginning to form around them, and his visibility was starting to cut to next to none.

“Okay, okay,” Jeff said, placating to Eddie’s need to be a bit of an asshat, “So what happened between you and Steve that’s got Gareth so pressed?”

If it was any other person in the car with him, Eddie might have been able to fake it. Even Frank might have fallen for a lie about Gareth’s hatred of jocks and conformity and how Steve was just a representation of that.

But it was Jeff. Jeff, who was their Earth, who knew that Gareth’s grudge wouldn’t have lasted this long if it wasn’t motivated by protectiveness. That the only reason Gareth wouldn’t have started to warm up even a little bit was his need to make sure his people were safe.

Few things in life were assured, but death, taxes, and Gareth Winston’s need to protect his own were all a given.

“Steve probably doesn’t even remember, so it doesn’t matter,” Eddie muttered, evading the question just as he narrowly evaded a pothole that seemed to appear out of thin air on the road in front of them. The storm was picking back up again, and this was not the conversation to be having right at this moment.

“Well, do you want him to fuck you?” Jeff asked bluntly, cutting through the fat and straight to the juicy meat of the problem.

“Jeff!” Eddie blurted out, a nervous burst of laughter escaping along with his name. He took the risk of looking away from the road for a few seconds to give the other boy a wild-eyed look, but Jeff seemed unphased, cool as a cucumber as a lion’s smile began to curl on his face.

“Do you want to fuck him?”

Unbidden, a dozen images flashed through Eddie’s head. Steve in his bed. Steve shirtless. Steve underneath him with his hair splayed out on the pillows, wrists trapped in gleaming silver cuffs as he begged so pretty for—

No.

No no no no no no NO.

“Dude!” Eddie groaned, turning away from the road again to shout at Jeff.

And then it happened.

Jeff’s shit-eating grin disappeared, his eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as he shouted a wordless warning cry and Eddie had less than a second to turn back to the road, slamming his foot on the brake and throwing his arm out to protect Jeff from the inevitable crash.

There was something on the road in front of them. The snow made it impossible to see beyond the shape, but, whatever it was, it was massive. Huge, and hulking, with a dark shadow that sent a chill down Eddie’s spine, and he was sure his van wouldn’t survive the impact.

But no impact came.

His tires skidded, the van turned half a quarter, but no collision, no smashing glass, no pain. Just twin panting from him and Jeff, and an empty road all around them.

“What was that?” Jeff whispered when he was able to form words again.

“A deer, I guess,” Eddie murmured back, not really feeling all that sure of his answer. He had never seen a deer like that, but he also hadn’t really seen anything. His wild imagination wanted to run with it, but there was no point. Whatever it was, it was gone, and that’s what mattered.

He leaned back against his seat, his heart still racing as he patted Jeff’s chest twice, slightly assured when he could feel Jeff’s heart pounding through his shirt as well.

“Sorry.”

“Shouldn’t’ve distracted you,” Jeff mumbled, lacing his fingers together to hide how badly they were shaking.

“Hey, not your fault,” Eddie said, knowing how Jeff’s anxiety tended to latch to any blame it could when it got tripped like this. Eddie tested the van, carefully pulling back onto the right side of the road. They stayed quiet as Eddie turned them towards Jeff’s house, driving at a turtle’s pace with both hands on the wheel.

“I want to help him,” Eddie offered into the silence, eyes firm on the road. “If I can.”

When Jeff didn’t immediately respond, Eddie thought that was the end of the conversation, but as they approached Jeff’s neighborhood, the boy next to him spoke up again.

“Steve needs the help. Something’s really wrong with him, Eds.”

“You’re turning over to Gareth’s side?” Eddie joked, the words thin and frail and instantly disappearing the second he put them in the air.

“No,” Jeff replied, no veil of humor over his words. “There’s something wrong with him like there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Eddie said on instinct, hating the bitter scoff Jeff gave. He pulled up to a stop sign and put the van all the way in park, turning in his seat and giving Jeff his full attention

“Look at me.” Eddie ordered, waiting until Jeff’s dark eyes met his own in the dim light of the streetlamp before speaking again.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Jeff. Nothing.” He said, making sure that there was zero wiggle room in his voice.

Because there wasn’t, and Eddie hated that his best friend thought there was. There was something wrong with Hawkins, with the country they lived in, with the world. There was something wrong with a species that somehow made color a defining factor in a person’s worth, but there was not, and never would be, anything wrong with who Jeff was.

“Fine, then something wrong happened to both of us,” Jeff amended, a ghost of a smile crossing his face at Eddie’s insistence. “Either way, just be careful with him,”

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving Steve the shovel talk? Not the other way around?” Eddie joked, putting the van back in gear and turning onto Jeff’s street.

“When you get him, I’ll give him the talk,” Jeff promised, crossing his heart as he did.

When, not if. Just one word instead of the other, but a flush of warmth flooded Eddie from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Jeff was right to use the word ‘when’, because Eddie’s chances were not even ‘if’, but he loved the positivity.

“Have a good night, man,” Jeff said as they pulled into his driveway, holding out a hand for a quick shake as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Hey,” Eddie called, grabbing the edge of Jeff’s coat as he stepped out of the van. “Us freaks stick together. Always.”

It was a little reminder, just a hint of a conversation they had over a year ago, but judging by the way Jeff’s eyes softened and his shoulders lowered, he knew exactly what Eddie was reminding him of.

“Always,” Jeff echoed, squeezing Eddie’s wrist once before he hurried towards his darkened house and slipped inside. Eddie waited till the porch light turned off before sighing heavily, resting his head against the steering wheel for a moment before reversing again.

Back to the lion’s den.

The house was dark as Eddie quietly let himself back in, but the glow of the pool and the embers of the fire crackling in the fireplace gave just enough light to see the aftermath of the party. It wasn’t half as bad as some of the messes Eddie had seen from Steve’s previous parties, but it was still pretty messy. There would be a lot of cleanup coming tomorrow, and Eddie’s heart ached when he thought about Steve spending Christmas Eve alone cleaning up his house.

Damn this boy. Eddie didn’t even celebrate Christmas, and here he was worrying over Steve about being alone for it.

Maybe Wayne wouldn’t mind having one more person over for dinner. Usually it was just the two of them, but Wayne loved his strays almost as much as Eddie did, and Steve was an easy guy to care about.

Eddie would ask him tomorrow morning. Call before anyone woke up and see what Wayne said. Then he would offer to help clean and ask Steve when it was just the two of them. After all, no one should be alone on the holidays.

Eddie was so lost in his thoughts, that he almost missed the sound of an angel singing somewhere up above.

Are you lonesome tonight?

Do you miss me tonight?

Are you sorry we drifted apart?

But no, there was no missing that voice. Eddie was a connoisseur of music, but he already knew that almost any other song was ruined for him. He was the cat caught by the canary instead of the other way around, lost in the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in years. It was deeper now, fuller, grown almost into a man from the boy he had been the last time Eddie heard him sing.

Does your memory stray to a bright summer day

When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?

He climbed the stairs slowly, drawn like a moth to a flame, knowing it would burn, but needing to be close anyway.

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Outside the room now, Eddie could see it all while still staying hidden. Steve was sitting on the floor, his head leaned back against the bed that was filled to the bursting with his sleeping children.

His entire self was on display for Eddie, not just his body, but his soul and his mind, a gift being given without knowing, and Eddie was too selfish not to take it.

Is your heart filled with pain?

Shall I come back again?

This was the boy Gareth couldn’t see, but the one Eddie couldn’t stop looking for. A boy who knew their first memory together. Without a doubt. Who had never forgotten, no matter how much Eddie tried to convince himself he had.

There was no other reason to pick this song.

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

And without permission Eddie was thrust into a memory.

Despite it only being his sophomore year, Eddie was more than used to getting detention. In the two years since he had moved to Hawkins, Eddie had earned his ‘problem child’ status at least twice over. This particular afternoon, he was stuck sitting at a graffitied desk in the detention room because he dared to argue when his teacher told him that it was valid to not believe in evolution when it went against your religious beliefs.

Evolution. The base of all humanity.

She was wrong, but she was the one with all the power, so Eddie was the one in trouble.

Still it could’ve been worse. Wayne had given him the van for his fifteenth birthday, so he wasn’t stuck waiting on the steps for a ride home after missing the bus. It wasn’t technically legal, but Hopper tended to look the other way as long as Eddie continued to give him discounts on ‘merchandise’.

All Eddie had to do was wait out the clock. Mr. Whiter had already fallen asleep at the desk up front and at six, Eddie would be free. Maybe he could even stop at Benny’s. The man always gave him extra fries to bring home to Wayne, and Eddie was making good money now that Rick was in the slammer. He was the last dealer left in town, so things were looking up.

Well things would be looking up, except the kid next to him refused to stop sniffling.

Eddie muffled an irritated sigh, sliding his eyes over to take stock of the boy sitting across the way. Clearly a freshman, and obviously his first time in detention. He was looking around the room with wide-eyed horror, slightly terrified of every single thing he saw, and obviously trying to brush tears away from his bruised cheek and busted lip.

Normally, Eddie would just tell him to shut up. That detention was barely anything to have to deal with in the grand scheme of things, but he had seen the fight that landed the kid in detention, and it had been bad enough to warrant some misery.

One second he and another boy (obviously a friend given how upset the kid was) were laughing by his locker, and the next second they were exchanging blows. It had been bad, taking three teachers to separate them, and somehow this kid had gotten in trouble for the whole thing!

But Eddie had seen the start, and it was the other twerp that had thrown the first punch. Yet somehow, he was already on the bus home and this schmuck was stuck in detention with the Freak of Hawkins High

The unjustness gnawed at Eddie’s soul, and the longer the kid sat there doing nothing but brush at his already dry cheeks, the harder it was to ignore him.

Fuck it. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon.

Eddie grabbed his notebook, slamming it open to a fresh page and dragging his favorite purple pen across the paper, taking a cursory glance at Mr. Whiter’s snoring form before sliding his chair over to the other boy.

“Hi!” Eddie said, throwing a big smile in the kids direction and hoping that would grease the wheels a little. Eddie knew how intimidating he could look to the rest of the world, and he liked it that way, but it sometimes made it hard to make friends.

Sure enough, the kid startled the second Eddie spoke, looking at him the way a deer looks at the hunter right before they hear the death shot. He didn’t seem like the type to just outright tell Eddie to fuck off, but he did look massively uncomfortable with Eddie invading his space.

Oh well, what was the worst that could happen?

“Wanna kill some time?” Eddie offered, holding up his notebook before placing it down on the desk in front of them. A tic tac toe board sat in the middle of the page, and a scorecard was up in the top corner with the word ‘Eddie' on one side and the words ‘Random Kid 'on the other.

A barely there smile glanced across the kids face as he looked down at the page, and then those big brown eyes were on him. Eddie waited patiently, forcing his body to stay still which was actually a pretty herculean task— not that this kid knew. He had the worm on the hook and the line in the water, and now he was just waiting for the curious fish to bite.

Whatever the kid was looking for, he must’ve found it because that same soft, shy smile was gifted to Eddie as he leaned down, rooting around in his backpack for his own pen. When he found the one he was looking for, he carefully crossed over Eddie’s purple writing, replacing ‘Random Kid’ with just one word instead.

“Well, Steve, let’s hope your tic-tac-toe powers are better than your fighting skills,” Eddie joked, pleased when instead of getting mad, Steve’s cheeks darkened in a pretty little blush, and he simply ducked his head with a soft protest and an embarrassed smile.

They played a few rounds in relative silence, the occasional quiet groan or cheer when one or the other managed to clinch a victory. It was nice, a little boring, but far preferable to what they had been doing before.

And then Steve’s pen died.

It was a slow death, long and drawn out with some furious scribbling to try and get one last juice for the squeeze.

“Here, man, just take mine. I’ve got a spare somewhere,” Eddie offered, not even thinking twice as he gave away his favorite pen, even though he never let anyone borrow that pen. Wayne had gotten it for him on a day trip to Indianapolis for his birthday, just a tiny trinket to commemorate the day, and Eddie loved it to death.

There was no way Steve could have known that, and yet he was looking at the pen like it was a live snake.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the clearly treasured object in front of him.

Eddie looked up at the other boy, furrowing his brow.

“Why not?” Eddie said with a shrug, going back to his notebook with a plain black pen. He was scratching out another tic-tac-toe board to add to the dozens that were already on the page, but paused when he saw Steve wasn’t picking up his own pen.

“People aren’t just nice,” Steve insisted, giving Eddie an unexpectedly guarded look. “They always want something…so what do you want from me?”

“I want to make this afternoon a little less unbearable, I want to fight the system, and I want to make you feel better.” Eddie offered, quirking his head to the side and picking up his favorite purple pen to offer once more to the other boy, “Isn’t that enough?”

They stared at each other for a long second, until Steve’s face broke into an incredulous smile and he ducked his head down.

“You’re really weird,” he said with a soft laugh, taking the pen. It was a lovely sound, like birds singing in the morning, or the first soft strum of a guitar as practice began.

Eddie needed to hear it again.

From there they were off, talking about everything and anything. Eddie shared about all of the ridiculous reasons he had gotten detention over the years, and Steve explained that the other punk from the fight was Tommy, apparently his best friend for his entire life. They had lived next to each other since Steve had moved to Hawkins as a kid, and had done every single thing together. The reason Tommy had started the fight was Steve had told him he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to basketball try-outs tomorrow.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just want to try some other stuff too you know?” Steve said, looking up from their game to catch Eddie’s eye, “We’re in high school now, so it’s the time to try something new, isn’t it?”

“Sure it is!” Eddie agreed eagerly, holding himself back from going on a diatribe about the laundry basket devils that ran the school and instead talking about all of the clubs he was in. He couldn’t really see Steve enjoying Marching Band or Creative Writing, but Drama might be a good fit, or maybe Art.

“You could even join the new club I’m trying to start if you wanted,” Eddie offered, trying to stay casual but practically vibrating at the thought of having someone else to show Higgins that Hellfire was worthy of a place at the table.

“A new club?” Steve asked.

“Yea, it’s gonna be great,” Eddie started, taking a deep breath to start his long rant about the joys of dungeons and dragons, “So it’s called—”

“Alright boys,” a nasally voice droned from the front of the room. “Time to pack it up.”

Both boys jumped at Mr. Whiter’s interruption, and Eddie rolled his eyes, frustrated at being stopped right as he had started to get to the good stuff. The geometry teacher either didn’t notice or didn’t care, too eager to get back to his own home to do whatever geometry teachers did when they weren’t at school.

If Eddie had to guess, it was probably fucking their wives with compasses while reciting geometric formulas as foreplay. That seemed right.

“And don’t let me catch you in here again, Mr. Harrington. I would hope your parents had taught you better,” Mr. Whiter said as they trudged past him. His blank potato looking face was only showing the barest hints of disappointment, but that was still enough to make Steve cringe away.

“Yes sir,” he whispered, all joy from the last hour they had spent together vanishing in an instant.

“What? No warning for me Mr. Whiter?” Eddie inquired, batting his eyes and trying to take the attention away from Steve.

“I don’t particularly like wasting my breath on hopeless cases, Mr. Munson,” Whiter droned, half raising one brow, as if shocked that Eddie would even bother to ask for an admonishment. “Try to get your homework done tonight, will you? I’d hate to add another zero to my gradebook,”

Hot shame rushed down Eddie’s spine, replaced quickly by a lightning fury that made his lips loose and his logic take a quick hike.

“Well, I don’t particularly like making promises I can’t keep, sorry Tighty-Whiteys!” Eddie declared, grabbing Steve’s hand and dragging him away before they could get in any trouble because of Eddie’s big fat mouth.

“Jesus H Christ, that guys a dick!” Eddie shouted, both boys laughing breathlessly as they burst through the doors of the school.

“You gonna do the homework?” Steve said through his giggles.

“Now? Hell no!” Eddie swore, cackling as he did and jumping up onto the low wall next to the school. “Gotta fight the system however you can, Stevie. Trust me. Listen to your elders.”

“Whatever you say,” Steve said, continuing to laugh at Eddie’s antics. He idly looked around the parking lot, his mood starting to darken as he looked again, searching the parking lot again, but Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what for.

Then Steve sighed, plopping down on the curb and wrapping his arms around his knees resting his chin on top of them and rapidly blinking.

“What’re you doin’?” Eddie asked with concern, shocked at Steve’s sudden turn and hopping down from his spot on the wall.

“My parents aren’t here,” Steve muttered glumly, staring out at the empty lot instead of looking at Eddie as he sat on the curb next to Steve. “The school called after the fight, and they knew when I was getting out, but my dad’s probably going to make me wait ‘till after dinner or something.”

It wasn’t exactly the most damning thing to say in the world, Eddie could think of a dozen things that his dad had done to him that were worse, but the thought of making his own son wait for hours in the cold and dark still made something in his stomach squirm. He could never imagine Wayne doing anything like that to him.

Steve curled up even tighter around himself, completely unaware of Eddie’s internal struggle.

“God, I bet they’re so pissed.” Steve whispered into his knees. “And now my dad’s going to have to come get me, and he’s going to be even madder about that—”

“Why don’t I give you a ride home?” Eddie offered in an instant, shocking even himself with the boldness of the offer. He had just met the kid only an hour ago, but Steve’s genuine nature touched something in him, and there was a magnetic pull to want to help him that Eddie couldn’t quite explain just yet. “Then at least they won’t be mad at you about needing a ride, right?”

It would make more sense for Steve to say no, to try and play it off, but instead he was giving Eddie a watery smile and a look of gratitude as he nodded, starting to stand.

Eddie had never really worried about what the van looked like, but as they walked towards where it was, Eddie jogged ahead, trying to throw the multitudes of wrappers and junk into the back where Steve wouldn’t see. Luckily for him, the younger boy seemed enraptured by the simple fact that Eddie had a car at all.

“I want something cool like a Beemer or a truck, but my mom doesn’t want me to get a car ‘till I’m 18,” Steve said idly, pausing and furrowing his brow as he did, “She’s really weird about me driving for some reason.”

Hopefully, she wouldn’t feel too weird about a random guy giving her kid a ride home in a kidnapper van.

“Pick a tape for us to listen to,” Eddie offered as he climbed into the driver's seat, fighting with his seatbelt as Steve perused his choices. Unfortunately, Steve quickly skipped over all of the metal that Eddie had at the front of the pack, but soon familiar notes began to sing, and Eddie’s shoulders relaxed as he recognized the song.

“Ahhhh, The King. A good choice,” Eddie commented as Elvis’s voice began to croon out into the air between them.

“Who could hate this song?” Steve asked rhetorically, a wry grin on his face as the tune began to take shape.

“I always loved that nickname,” Steve said off handedly, staring out the window at the rows of corn, “King.”

“You should steal it then,” Eddie said automatically. Sure, Steve was a kid right now, but Eddie could see it in his eyes. A few years, a couple more inches, and that kid would have the world eating out of his palm. That sweet nature, that funny little humor, ‘King’ wasn’t too hard to imagine when it came to Steve.

“Maybe,” Steve replied, drawing out the word with a tone that showed that he wasn’t sure about that. He gave Eddie a few more directions, and they got closer and closer to their time being done together. A strange desperation started to make Eddie’s heart race, like he could feel the two of them pulling back into their roles, backing away from whatever they had this afternoon.

“It’s got a good ring to it. King Steve,” Eddie pushed, pausing and making the turn into Loch Nora before he put his heart on the line.

“Why don’t you blow off basketball try-outs tomorrow? Come to my club I’m starting instead. You can meet my friends.”

It was a chance, a choice. Steve could make the right one, and be one of them, or he could get sucked into Hawkins and all of it’s hell hole small town bullshit. Eddie was giving him an out.

“That sounds really fun,” Steve said in a small voice, a secret smile shared between them before it was ruined by a shout from the house in front of them.

“Steven!”

It was a woman’s voice, and Steve’s entire body stiffened. No more smiles, no more relaxing, Steve was a rod of pure steel, with a blank unaffected face. A man and a woman, Steve’s mother and father presumably, were standing on the porch together, twin faces of disappointed gravity that stole all of the air out of the van.

“Well, wish me luck,” Steve laughed without humor, his fingers worrying over the straps of his backpack as he started to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie asked, already knowing in his stomach that he wouldn’t.

“Tomorrow,” Steve said, the word so thin and frail now.

And he was gone. Out of the car, and most definitely out of Eddie’s life. But if he was losing this like he seemed to lose everything, Eddie wanted to at least say a proper goodbye.

“See you later Alligator!” Eddie shouted through the window. Steve turned back, haloed by the setting sun, looking far too angelic for a gangly fourteen year old.

“In a while Crocodile,” Steve called back with a slight laugh, just a shadow of his former self, turning and rushing to his waiting parents who gave Eddie one last glare before slamming the door shut.

Eddie waited a second, staring at the locked door and listening to the song on the radio, wishing that the burning in his eyes would just disappear the way Steve had.

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and care?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain

Shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Eddie opened his eyes again, back in the present, to find Steve already watching him.

In another world, things worked out differently, but not in this one.

In reality, Steve didn’t come to Hellfire the next day. Tommy was at his locker bright and early, there to laugh the whole thing off and drag Steve to try-outs come hell or high water. Eddie had seen the whole thing, and he had known then and there Steve wasn’t one of them. Steve’s cheek was still bruised, but there were finger shapes on his wrist that definitely hadn’t been there the day before during detention. He had glanced at Eddie, but quickly glanced away, agreeing loudly that try-outs were going to be awesome.

When Steve had caught his eye that day, when he had tried to say he was sorry without words, Eddie hadn’t been in a place to listen. He had a thousand chips of his own weighing on his shoulders, and an inability to see anything but his own opinion as right.

There was no way to be two things at once, not back then.

But that bruised beat up kid was in front of him again, big hazel eyes begging for forgiveness again. And this time, Eddie finally felt ready to give it to him.

“Hi Alligator,” Eddie whispered, the words barely able to get out past the lump in his throat. A small smile graced Steve’s lips as his eyes began to shine in the dark.

“It’s been a while, Crocodile,” Steve whispered back.

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underthetree845 · 10 months

Text

How to Say "I love you"

Chapter Two: The Shadow of The Tree on That Hill

Chapter Index

Armin/Reader

Cws: AFAB reader, Reader is Eren's twin sister, modern high school au, bullying, Armin gets beat up, mentions of death/murder (Armin and Mikasa’s parents), crying (I swear this isn’t just angst)

About 6.2k words

Summary: Flashes of memory from all nine years Armin and Reader have known each other.

You were six years old the first time Armin’s blue eyes looked up and met yours. They were teary and puffy from crying as he sat on the ground, leaning up against a cement wall. You had seen him around school a few times, in fact he was in your class. The boy seemed pretty smart, always raising his hand and answering the teacher’s questions with an enthusiastic smile. There were a few older kids he was always with, but you could tell they weren’t his friends. His bright eyes dimmed and his form seemed to shrink in knowing submission whenever they shoved him back and forth and called him degrading names, claiming they were just “playing around.”

You reached out a hand to his timid form and his eyes studied you closely. After a moment, the blonde reached out his hand and accepted yours, standing up and attempting to dry his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked him with a comforting smile. The boy stared at you perplexed, almost as if he didn’t know how to react to your kind tone.

“Kind of…” Armin muttered, looking down at his disheveled clothes and scrappy appearance. His knees were bloody and battered, he had a bruise on his chin, and his elbow had been sliced open and was bleeding significantly. It looked like it hurt.

“You shouldn’t listen to them,” you said, straightening out Armin’s cardigan and brushing off some of the dirt.

“It’s hard,” he sniffled, scrunching his face up and balling his hands into shaky fists.

You looked at him, your eyebrows twinging in sympathy before you gently took his hand in yours.

“Come on, my mom can help you get cleaned up, then you can even meet my brother,” you told Armin, taking a step forward and pulling him along. He blinked for a few moments before he felt hot tears beginning to stream down his cheeks, which he hastily wiped away. The bullies were gone, someone was being nice to him, so why did this feeling still make him want to cry?

You were seven years old when your brother challenged both you and Armin to a “test of bravery” in which you all had to take a leap of faith to the other side of a creek near your house. The water gushed around the rocks and the faint sound of cicadas could be heard in the distance. You were a little ways away from all the houses, which could still be seen faintly if you squinted. The leaves of the canopy above you provided a cool shade and rustled in the wind.

“Guys, are you sure about this?” Armin asked, peering down at the flowing water. He was within his rights to be concerned; if you did slip, the fall down into the creek wouldn’t be pleasant, but there weren’t enough rocks to have to worry about hitting your head. Plus, you knew for a fact that this specific spot of the creek was shallow enough to stand in and only have the water go up just a little above your knees.

“Come on Armin, it’s not a big deal,” your brother grinned, sticking his arm straight out in front of him and lining up his thumb in an effort to aim himself properly. He'd seen someone do it on a tv show once. Eren paced back and forth, trying to find the best spot to jump from.

You placed a hand on Armin’s shoulder reassuringly, and the worry in his eyes seemed to subdue at least a little bit when he glanced over at you.

“Okay guys, I’m gonna go!” Eren declared, stepping back to get a running start and aim himself at the creek. Your brother shot forward, trying to gain as much momentum as his legs would allow him to before he leaped, arms flailing for a moment before he landed on the other side and staggered slightly. “Ahahah! Yes!” Eren cheered triumphantly, “See? No dumb old creek can stop me.”

“Okay, my turn,” you said with a new gleam in your eyes. You left Armin’s side and dashed to position yourself the same way Eren had.

“Be careful!” Armin shouted as you took off, pushing up from the ground and jumping high into the air; Armin’s breath caught for a moment, time seemed to slow down as he waited to see if your effort would be enough. You landed on the other side with a hard thud, wobbling for a moment before jumping and pumping your fist in accomplishment.

“Come on, Armin! Don’t worry, it’s not that hard!” Eren called, smiling enthusiastically and giving an encouraging thumbs up.

You and your brother watched as Armin made his way over to where you two had lined yourselves up and positioned himself for a running start.

“I-I don’t know about this,” Armin stammered, his legs beginning to feel wobbly again. Great, here it is. That feeling that always ate him up inside. No matter how much Armin tried to shake it away, it was like it consumed his entire being. It made his mind race, his hands were always unsteady, and it forced a heavy sense of fear into the pit of his stomach. He hated it, it felt like something was crawling under his skin.

“You’ve got this Armin!” you shouted, cupping your hands around your mouth and waving from the other side of the creek. He took a deep breath. Ever since he met you, he didn’t get that suffocating feeling as much anymore. He wasn’t sure if you did it consciously or not, but you always seemed to be able to make it disappear, as if it were never there in the first place. Armin took a deep breath to steady himself before pushing off and dashing in the direction of Eren and yourself. He jumped off the ground and for a moment, it felt like he was flying. However, reality is reality and his balance must have been off because when his foot came into contact with the other side of the creek, he slipped. Armin’s eyes widened as he fell back and out of sight. Not long after, you heard a splash. “Armin!” you exclaimed, rushing to the side of the creek to offer your assistance.

“Seriously?” Eren groaned, but still decided to follow you and make sure Armin was okay.

He sputtered out water and struggled to his feet as you and Eren climbed down the rocks on the side of the creek to wade over to him.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” you asked worriedly, taking Armin’s hand and examining it before looking up to see his face, but his gaze was turned away.

“Why am I like this?” Armin sniffled, taking his hand away from you and clutching it to his chest, “I can’t do anything.”

“Hey, jumping over a creek doesn’t matter that much,” Eren insisted, but that wasn't how Armin saw it. It wasn’t jumping over the creek specifically, it was the fact that both you and Eren were able to do something so easily while he struggled with it. It had always been that way, with defending himself from torment, climbing trees, having the confidence to speak up. Armin couldn’t do any of those things. All he wanted was to be considered equal to his friends one day, to prove that he could be more than the sad little nobody he was convinced everyone saw him as.

“But you did do something,” you stated, and Armin met your gaze curiously, “you jumped. Not everyone is brave enough to do that, and since you were afraid, I think that makes you even more brave!” Your smile was warm, the sincerity in your eyes drawing Armin in like a magnet.

“B-but I couldn’t land, I fell into the creek, both of you saw it,” he insisted, cracks in his expression.

“That’s okay, it was a ‘test of bravery,’ right?” you replied, turning to Eren and he nodded. “Then I think you definitely passed!” you beamed, not a hint of malice or mockery in your tone.

Armin’s eyes seemed to light up. He wanted to believe you so badly; so, at least for the time being, he decided he would. A small smile creeped up onto his lips as his heart thrummed with appreciation. You two helped him to his feet. He almost felt giddy. No, that wasn’t quite it… why couldn’t he pinpoint what he was feeling?

You were eight years old when Armin decided to trust you with something special to him. It was true that he’d grown to feel increasingly more comfortable around you (and your brother), but it had become instinct from an early point in his life to prepare for the worst when introducing the topic to someone. With great care, Armin opened the book to his favorite page; the one with ink sketches and descriptions of various great natural landscapes that ranged from icebergs, to tropical forests, to the coastal sea. Thrill ran through his veins. No matter how many times he looked over these pages, they would never fail to make his mind begin to burst with new thoughts and ideas.

It was an old brown book, and you couldn’t help but wonder why a kid your age would be so interested in something so obviously not written for elementary students. It looked like the type of book adults might use for study or research. As it turns out, you were right. Apparently, it had belonged to Armin’s parents.

You had never met Mr. and Mrs. Arlert before, always assuming that they were just busy with work or something like that. You and your brother’s eyes widened as you listened to Armin explain that a few years ago, in fact not long before he’d met you, his parents had waved goodbye to go on a three-year-long exploration trip in various locations around the world. They were both mechanics with a thirst for knowledge, and wanted to complete a research study on environments around the world in relation to each other and the way they influence technology. To document their discoveries. Unfortunately, that dream never became a reality.

That day Armin’s parents kissed him goodbye and left him with his grandfather was the last time he ever saw them. Before they could even start their adventure, their lives were cut short by a tragic plane crash in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

When Armin was told that he wouldn’t be able to see his mother and father anymore, he was inconsolable. He already wasn’t the most outgoing boy, and this certainly didn’t help him when it came to making friends at school. In fact, Armin’s situation only provided more fuel to the jerks that picked on him . Those upperclassmen would look down on him and spit mockeries. “Why do you even bother breathing? Clearly you and your parents were a lot alike, so you deserve to die, just. Like. Them.” “What are you going to do, freak? Go cry to your mom? Oh wait-” Their laughter was sharp and vile.

The bullying was getting so relentless that Armin’s grandfather had been seriously considering having Armin switch schools just to give the pure-hearted boy a fresh start. He didn’t deserve any of what he was going through. However, things started to change from the moment you reached out your hand.

Eren, Armin, and yourself were practically inseparable and balanced each other out nicely. You and Eren provided the bold front Armin needed to defend himself, you and Armin both kept Eren from going too far, Armin taught both you and your brother about things you’d never even heard of before. You weren’t sure what dynamic Eren and Armin played in relation to yourself, but you were sure you'd figure it out eventually.

You were nine years old when an unexpected addition to your life changed the dynamic of the little friend group you three had. Her name was Mikasa Ackerman.

The change wasn’t unwelcome; although you weren’t sure how you felt about a near complete stranger moving in with you, the opportunity to grow close with another girl your age was something to look forward to.

Mikasa was reserved, polite, and had grown up in a rural part of town. She never got out much besides her old school, and spent a lot of time at home with her parents. Your father, Grisha, had met her before because he was her family’s doctor and would make day trips out to the countryside to see them. On his most recent visit, he thought it would be a good idea to take you and Eren along to encourage the possibility of a friendship with the girl. You arrived at the Ackerman’s house to find the door left ajar; odd. Your father went in first, and gasped to find Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman covered in blood on the floor, and their daughter nowhere to be seen. Your father ushered you and your brother away from the doorway and called the authorities immediately. Although he was able to confirm that Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman seemed like they had been dead for at least a few hours, he made you and Eren promise to not go inside. Neither of you kept that promise. It was hard to ignore the pools of blood and rotting scent of human flesh, but you and your brother did the best you could to plug your noses and avert your eyes as you searched the house for any sign of Mikasa. As luck would have it, you two eventually found her huddled in the back corner of a closet in one of the bedrooms. She looked like a frightened little kitten, and there was a certain emptiness to her eyes.

It took a while to get Mikasa to speak, but when she did, Grisha and the police were horrified to find out that she had witnessed her parents be slaughtered right before her eyes. From the intel Mikasa could provide, it sounded like Mr. Ackerman had unintentionally opened the door for some brutal robbers, thinking it was your father there for their scheduled appointment.

Having no other bedrooms in the house, Mikasa was made to share yours. Full adoption was likely, seeing as Mikasa had no other relatives and would probably feel more comfortable with an adult she knew rather than be put into the foster care system.

The girl was quiet, and you couldn’t tell if she had always been like that or if that fateful day had left a permanent wound on her soul that would take a while to heal up. Maybe it was both.

You and your brother introduced her to Armin the next time he came over and they seemed to get along well; the addition of another more thoughtful, reserved person balancing out your friend group nicely.

One late night, when the stars were out, you had convinced Mikasa to stay up late with you and use the skylight in your room to venture onto the roof. The wind was chilling and Mikasa shivered as you helped her up, but all of that was forgotten as soon as she looked to the sky. That was the first time you saw a genuine sense of awe in the girl’s eyes.

“It’s like home,” she whispered quietly. Mikasa’s old town didn’t have many street lamps or bright lights, so views like this provided a nice feeling of comfort for her.

Just then, you heard a clambering thump from where you had just come up and turned to see Eren joining you on the roof. He grunted as he heaved himself upwards and you moved to try to help him but he refused.

“It’s a lot easier with someone else, you know,” you sighed, watching as Eren made it onto the roof and stood up, dusting himself off.

“I know, but you’ve never come up here without me before and I felt betrayed,” Eren huffed.

“I was showing Mikasa,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Well you still could’ve told me! Maybe I would’ve liked to show Mikasa too…” Eren grumbled.

You both decided to just let it go and make your way over back to the girl. She was still staring up at the sky, and you had to admit, this was one of the clearest nights you’d had in awhile. Her long raven hair blew softly in the breeze, and it created an almost ethereal effect combined with the way the moonlight lit up her pale skin. A stronger gust of wind passed by and Mikasa crossed her arms over her chest as she tried to shrink away from the cold. There was a brief pause before Eren sighed and gripped the red scarf around his neck, pulling it off and approaching Mikasa.

“You can have this,” he said quietly. The emotion on your brother’s face was unrecognizable to you. You had always known Eren better than anyone, so why did his expression look so unfamiliar?

Mikasa’s eyes shone as she looked at Eren, accepting the red garment as he wrapped it around her.

“It’s warm, right?” Eren asked, locking his eyes with hers.

Mikasa stared at him for a moment longer before shifting her gaze down to the cozy fabric and running her hand along it.

“It’s warm…” she agreed, her voice fragile. She seemed like a glass statue that could break at any moment.

You sensed a shift in the air. It was slight, but you suddenly felt closer with the two of them. An understanding that went beyond words. Mikasa was alone, hurting, afraid, and you two were her last chance at ever feeling like she belonged again.

“I’m glad you’re living with us,” you said in a hushed tone, taking a step forward.

“I’m just… lost,” Mikasa whispered, her voice weak. Her eyes were hazy, as if she didn’t know where to look.

“Then come on, let’s head back already,” Eren sighed, reaching over to gently grab the sleeve on Mikasa’s wrist. “To our home,” he finished. You could tell your brother was trying to seem like he didn’t care, no matter how blantantly obvious the truth was.

Mikasa’s eyes widened before they glazed over with tears as Eren led her along. That was the first time you ever saw her cry.

You were ten years old as Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and you dashed across the meadow you knew so well. Eren led the way, followed closely by Mikasa. He urged all of you along, and you slowed your pace a bit to match Armin’s so he wouldn’t feel left behind. His blonde hair shone in the sun and bounced on every step. His cheeks were flushed from the running and his breathing was growing labored, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he wouldn’t stop.

You all continued across the grass; jumping over puddles, rounding the stone wall until you reached the tree on that hill.

You all slowed and collapsed with a breath, grinning and letting huffs of laughter escape your lungs as you laid and looked at the sky.

The clouds were white and puffy as they drifted along. The wind provided a refreshing, serene atmosphere; it was pleasant after all that physical strain on your body. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the color of the sky. It was so clear and blue today; just like the eyes of a certain blonde boy laying right next to you.

Truth be told, after getting to know Armin, blue had slowly become your favorite color. You weren’t sure when it happened, but you had started to notice the way prolonged eye contact between you two made your heart race.

You looked to your right to glance over at him and found that Armin was already staring at you, a tender expression on his face and an unexpectedly soft look in his eyes; he almost appeared to be in a trance. His eyes immediately widened and he snapped his head back up to look at the sky when you caught him, embarrassed that he’d let something like that happen. You paused for a moment before giggling softly and turning your head back towards the clouds.

Did his cheeks turn pink? You wondered, smiling softly to yourself. You paused in thought for a moment, considering the possibility of you making his heart jump the same way he was always doing to you.

Nah, it’s just from the running, you thought as you reached over and grabbed the boy’s hand, interlocking your fingers with his, Couldn’t be anything else.

You were eleven years old when something caught your eye from across the school courtyard.

“Ha! Where’s the sacrilege now? Or does your philosophy say it’s wrong to fight back too?” an older boy taunted, tossing Armin’s book over to one of his friends as Armin stood between them, making attempts to catch it.

“As a matter of fact, it does!” Armin retorted, jumping towards the boy holding his book and reaching for it as he held it above his head, only for him to throw it to someone else. “I’d rather take a few lumps than brawl like a beast!” Armin huffed. “Oh, so now I’m a beast?” their ringleader spat, grabbing Armin by his collar and yanking him forward roughly.

“Take a good hard look at yourself and tell me you’re not acting like one,” Armin stared him dead in the eye through his tears, “You resort to violence because your brain’s the size of a walnut!” A few surrounding kids snickered and the bully clicked his teeth, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. “So pommel me all you want, I’ve already won!” Armin finished.

“Yeah, well you know what?” the boy said, shoving Armin against the wall and raising his fist, “I’m a sore loser!”

“Back off!” your brother shouted, dashing up to the scene at full speed, charging forward with an angry look in his eyes.

“It’s Eren!” one of them took notice.

The bullies turned their heads and scoffed, snickering amongst themselves before putting their guard up in preparation.

“Hey, lookie here! Back for more?” another taunted

“You think he would’ve learned his lesson,” the third one cackled, daunting smiles on all their faces.

“Give this one to me-” one of them started before cutting himself short, “Oh crap! She’s with him!”

They could take Eren on easy; they knew it, you knew it, Armin knew it, and Mikasa did too. As soon as the bullies caught sight of you and her running behind Eren, their faces fell and they turned white as a ghost. You knew they were mostly afraid of Mikasa, but even without her, both of the Jeager twins at once didn’t make for a very nice combo.

“Run! Just run!” their ringleader shouted, his voice shaky as they all stumbled back.

“Heh! That’s all it takes, one look! I’m just that scary!” your brother huffed triumphantly, slowing down his pace as the bullies scampered off.

“Well, one of you is,” Armin sighed, and you had to bite back a laugh. He attempted to stand up but must’ve taken quite a few hits before you three arrived, as he staggered and fell to his knees again with a whimper.

Your focus immediately shifted to the blonde boy on the ground, and you moved to help him up, offering your hand.

“Where’d they get you, Armin?” you asked tenderly. The boy stared at your hand for a moment before he looked down and gave a shaky breath.

You hadn’t misinterpreted the situation, had you? I mean he was clearly hurt, given the way he winced when he tried to move and the cuts and scrapes littered on his face. The state those jerks left him in really made your blood boil. I mean what had Armin ever done to them? Why couldn’t they just let him talk about his dreams to explore the world like his parents wanted to? It wasn't his fault they were too slow to understand.

“It’s alright. Thank you, Y/n,” Armin nodded before placing a hand on the wall and getting up on his own.

“Okay..” you trailed off, slightly hurt but mostly confused as to why Armin wouldn’t accept your hand like he did before.

“Idiots,” your brother snarked, looking off in the direction the bullies had run.

You were twelve years old when you first accompanied Armin to his favorite place in the whole world. Just travel a few blocks up from your neighborhood into town, make a left at Rose Street, then a right, walk two more blocks, and you’re there.

The golden bell over the door frame chimed as you entered, and Armin greeted the owner like they were old friends; actually, the possibility wasn’t unlikely.

A few days ago, Armin was telling you about another book he’d picked up recently when you finally, finally asked where he kept getting them. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he told you about the bookstore. It was wedged in between two other buildings in town; thin, but two stories tall, and Armin felt like it went on forever. The building was old, older than most shops in your town. The outside was painted a forest green and a little wooden sign hung out front. “All Welcome, Bookstore Here,” carved into it.

The inside was exactly as Armin had described; every wall was lined top to bottom with books, new and old, all organized in beautiful alphabetic harmony. The floorboards creaked under your feet as you walked and you inhaled to find that the air had a unique scent to it, best described as old parchment and sunlight.

“Armin! Good to see you, I was starting to think you weren’t going to come today,” the old man behind the counter smiled, adjusting the little round glasses that sat over the wrinkles on his face.

“It’s nice to see you too, Louis,” Armin grinned warmly. He was almost always more reserved in these types of interactions, but with Louis, he seemed to be completely at ease; he must feel really at home in the bookstore. “This is my friend, Y/n Jeager,” Armin said, moving to the side so you could step forward and introduce yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir,” you greeted with a polite smile and a small wave. If Armin trusted his man, you would too.

“Please, just call me Louis,” the man insisted, shaking his head. “You said your name was Y/n?” the man asked and you nodded; for a moment you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes light up. “I’ve heard so much about you,” the man mused, “from Armin, that is.”

You shot your eyebrows up and turned to Armin with a curious look, not being able to help the smile that grew on your face. Armin blushed immediately and let out a string of incoherent stutters before laughing nervously and grabbing your hand.

“Well, I’m going to go give Y/n a tour now. Talk to you later, Louis!” Armin called, already dashing out of the old man’s sight.

“Thank you Louis!” you shouted as Armin led you away. For some reason, the fact that Armin seemed to have told Louis about you on more than one occasion sent butterflies into your stomach.

You were thirteen years old the day in class when you and Armin got assigned as partners for the end-of-the-year science fair project. When the teacher called out your names together, your heart lept and you looked over to Armin to give him a smile which he meekly returned. Even if it was only for the briefest of moments, your gaze landing on him made his stomach flutter. Lately, there seemed to be a buzzing feeling in his chest around you that he couldn’t get rid of. Armin had never been the type to get distracted in class, but it seemed like more and more recently that he would find himself lost in thought with his eyes resting on you, or having you pop into his brain at random times of day. Armin couldn’t decide whether he minded or not.

More than a few all-nighters were pulled in preparation for the science fair. You and Armin toiled endlessly for weeks on end; doing research, gathering notes, testing hypotheses, revising, and doing it all over again. Seeing as he was at the top of the class, you basically let Armin choose the topic for you. You were sure whatever he chose would be wonderful anyway.

You ended up deciding on an in-depth research project on the growth of flowers in various types of soil, different temperatures, exposed to different environments, even down to the best watering cycles for each type of blossom. Eren was growing tired of finding a new potted plant somewhere around the house every other day.

When the time came to present your project, you and Armin did not fall short. You took care in pinning up the main findings of your research, along with the details of each kind of plant you used and what sorts of things you tested in a way that would be easy for any passerby to understand. There were pictures from the various plant dissections you two conducted, and you had gotten Historia to help you make your poster board look presentable. She was on the yearbook committee, after all.

Your project caught the eyes of many teachers and parents attending the science fair, and you both did your best to answer all their questions. Armin seemed a little shaky whenever he had to speak, as if he had any reason to be. He was the most intelligent kid in your grade, easy. You wouldn’t even be surprised if he was smarter than most of the upperclassmen. Despite his timid nature, Armin kept up a brave face and answered anyone’s questions with a helpful smile. At that moment, you couldn’t help but admire him. He was clever and observant, but never took it for granted or looked down on others, because that’s just the kind of person he was. That’s just the kind of person you’d grown to care for so deeply.

After the science fair, you and Armin were instructed to leave all your research results and materials where you had presented them because the proctors still had to go through with grading.

When you stepped out of school, the last golden rays of sunlight bathed you in their warmth. You squinted for a moment as your eyes adjusted before you could take in the captivating hues of orange and pink swirling in the sky.

Armin fiddled with his hands for a moment, a nervous habit he had that you hoped to ease at least a little bit whenever you held his hand. When you asked him what was wrong he reached inside his bag and began to pull something out.

Armin could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Would you think it was weird? Did he get it right? What if you didn’t want them? Would he ever be able to speak to you again? The second he caught your warm gaze, all his thoughts came to a halt. He took a deep breath and pulled out the small bouquet he had been hiding in his book bag.

You blinked once as Armin held out the purple flowers to you. He was shifting in place and making an effort to avoid your gaze. “I-I’ve been growing them over these past few weeks. They’re not for our project, I took care of them on the side…” he mumbled. He shouldn’t be acting this nervous! His behavior would only make you misinterpret his intentions more! Well not exactly misinterpret, he had come to realize that he liked you, a lot, he just wasn’t quite ready for you to find out yet. This was simply meant to be a kind gesture to test the waters. It was more like he didn’t want you to figure out the real reason giving you flowers meant so much to him, so he forced himself to meet your gaze.

You were taken aback by the sight in front of you. The warm rays of sun lit up his skin so perfectly, a light breeze blew through his hair, there was a faint flush on his cheeks, and his eyes stood out the most; not only because of their color, but because of the shy yet endearingly hopeful look in them.

You did your best to memorize what you saw before you reached your hands out and gently took the bouquet from him.

“Thank you, Armin,” you said quietly, looking down to admire the blooms. You brought them up to your face to savor the sweet smell with a smile before noticing something. “How did you know these were my favorite?” you asked, looking up to meet Armin’s eyes again.

“Well, ah, you know…” Armin chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, “I didn’t. Just luck, I guess.”

Liar, you thought with a loving sigh.

You were fourteen years old when the picture sitting on the mantle in your house was taken. The people in it are Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and you, wearing your middle school graduation robes.

“Look here kids!” your mother called, holding out her camera with a proud grin. The four of you lined yourselves up and let her and Armin’s grandfather get a few pictures before you got to talk amongst yourselves.

“What are we going to do if we’re not all in the same class in high school next year?” Armin asked, his eyes passing over your faces but lingering on yours for a moment longer.

“Even if we’re not, we can still meet up in the hallway and at lunch and after school,” you replied, a solemn but hopeful smile on your face.

“Plus we’ll have three years of high school which means three chances to end up in the same class,” your brother pointed out, and you nodded.

This seemed to ease Armin’s anxieties at least a little bit, but a moment later you saw his eyes flicker with tears and his eyebrows lowered.

“Three more years of this, huh?” Armin said in a shaky breath. His smile was joyful yet held sorrow, heartwarming but you also felt as if it could break you. You wished you could paint a picture of it, but for now, Armin just needed a hug.

“What do you mean ‘three more years of this,’ Armin?” you said softly, placing your hands on his shoulders, “first of all, three years is a lot of time, and we’re going to be together through all of it.” The boy bit his lip at your statement and struggled to hold back tears. “And second of all, what makes you think this is going to be over once we all graduate high school?” you asked with a gentle smile, “We’re going to be together for a long time after this too.”

Armin finally broke at your words, sniffling softly as big tears began to fall down his cheeks.

“Of course you’d cry at graduation,” Eren rolled his eyes before placing a hand on his best friend's back.

“S-sorry, I told myself I wouldn’t, I just…” Armin croaked, wiping his sleeves over his eyes as the tears continued to fall.

“Just come here,” you sighed softly, pulling the boy into a hug and holding his form tightly against yours. It took a brief moment for Armin to return the gesture, and only a second longer for Eren and Mikasa to join you on either side. Armin’s cheeks flushed as he melted into the embrace. How had he gotten so lucky with such amazing friends?

You sighed into the hug before pulling back slightly, a warm smile on your face.

“We’re always going to stick together, do you all promise?” you asked, looking around the circle. Mikasa and Eren nodded, then you looked at Armin again. “Got it?”

Armin paused for a moment before his lips formed a shaky smile on his tear-stained cheeks.

“Yeah!” he huffed with a nod, pulling you all into another tight embrace.

Your mother’s eyes softened at the scene, and she couldn’t help but snap a picture. This will go on the mantle, she thought.

Now, you are fifteen, and as it turns out, you didn’t end up having to worry about being put in separate classes. The first term of the school year was almost over, and summer break was drawing near.

On the way back from school one day, Armin noticed a small gray kitten huddled underneath a bush in the rain. Mikasa and Eren went along ahead but you and Armin stayed to try to coax the little creature out. When you finally did, however, the storm worsened and you wound up staying the night at Armin’s house with him and his grandfather, along with a new little friend.

Now, you and Armin were nestled cozily on the couch together as the storm raged on outside.

Armin’s grandfather had gone to check on the kitten before bed, but instead was met with the sight of you two resting against each other in the living room, fast asleep. He chuckled warmly and went to Armin’s room for a moment before returning with a blanket. Armin’s grandfather unfolded the fabric and laid it over you two gently, making sure to tuck in the sides so it wouldn’t slip off.

“Kids…” he sighed quietly, giving you two one last glance before heading upstairs to go to bed.

Chapter Three: Not a Date

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