Ribs (Armin Arlert x Reader)

3 :: My Mom and Dad Let Me Stay Home

A/N

Why are so many people asking for my hand in marriage? It's funny, but I'm just thoroughly confused.

Anyways, I thought this chapter would be perfect to post on Valentines day since this I just love you guys so much. Enjoy!

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"Here, hold on."

The young man stood up from his crouching position before you and slipped his hand into the pocket of his beige jeans, which lay quite tight against his legs. His upper thighs were squeezed slightly by thick leather garter straps connecting to a harness wrapped around his torso; the dark mahogany color in stark contrast with his crisp white button up shirt. Interesting costume. You thought, attempting to guess what he was supposed to be.

There was a small silver key between his fingers he pulled from his pocket, using it to unlock a door sunken into the Victorian walls with fair struggle. All around you there were portraits that changed expressions as you moved your head, and you had also noticed this room was in fact a hallway. It stretched so far ahead and behind you, the candlelight faded into the distance and was replaced with profound darkness, unknown and untouched like the ocean.

"Um, it won't open."

The young man turned towards you with his lips tightly pursed and his eyes, wide and a cornflower blue, darted between you sitting with your back against the wall and the door before him.

High pitched nervous laughter left his throat as he continued to rattle the key in the keyhole in poor attempts to thrust the door open.

"Okay...maybe this one."

Unlike the wooden door, a deeply stained shade of chestnut,rounded at the top, the door right across was a contemporary metal one. Quite out of place for the hallway's atmosphere. It was sleek, donned the ability of an opaque reflection, and was sunk deep into the hallway walls with a rectangular handle. It seemed to be the type of handle you'd find in a sci-fi teenage movie where the protagonist is dumbfoundingly stupid.

The young man rattled at the handle, but it wouldn't even budge. Not even enough to make the endless clicking that came with moving a locked door handle. It was completely motionless.

"Shit..."

"What?" Your head flicked up to watch him raise his arms, positioning them behind his head and scratching at the thick, straight tufts of blonde hair dusting along the nape of his neck.

"I thought that door not budging was bad, but this," With one hand resting atop his head, he gestured the other towards the contemporary door. "This is even worse. The room through the wooden door had a first aid kit for your head, but the metal one is for staff to leave, but now we can't get out."

"Hold on, I have my phone with me, I can call my friend. She was left upstairs."

You reach into the pocket of your partially zipped up sweater as you stand yourself up, but instead of retrieving a phone the only thing you looked down on were your hands. They had been stained like watercolor to paper in blood that had been running down your forehead unbeknownst to you.

"Wait, I thought you were alone? My coworker said there was only one person coming in."

You were patting yourself down like a madman, reaching into every pocket available on your person, but nothing. Your phone was nowhere to be seen on the ground either.

"No, I'm not alone. Why? Don't tell me she's stuck?"

"Well..."

The young man let out another shrill laugh from his throat, his head tilted down and to the side while his eyes looked up at you before turning his attention back to the locked metal door in front of him.