track nine

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A/N: hey guys. this chapter is super short and boring for the most part. as always, read this on ao3, follow my tumblr, punk-rock-rebellion, and tell me what you think. enjoy!

It was around dinnertime when Armin returned home.

“I’m back, Grandfather!” Armin spoke as he walked in the door of his house.

“Hello, Armin. Welcome back,” his grandfather replied with a soft smile. “I am too tired today to make us some dinner, so would you like to go to a restaurant?”

Armin’s eyes lit up. They hardly ever ate anywhere other than their house. 

“Yes, of course! Where do you want to go?”

“Let’s go to the Spaghetti Factory. Make sure to wear something nicer than that,” Grandfather replied, pointedly looking at Armin’s sweat-stained shirt.

“Whatever,” Armin replied jokingly while walking up the stairs to his room.

Armin chose to wear a brand new white button up, black Converse, and dark wash jeans. He pulled them on quickly and ran a brush through his long hair. He jumped down the stairs and walked into the living room to see his grandfather hitting the “end” button on the house phone.

“Did you reserve a table?” the blond asked.

“Yes, let’s go,” his grandfather replied.

They got into the car and sang along to classic songs all the way to he restaurant.

Their time at the restaurant consisted of playful jokes about how they eat spaghetti and pretending they were the people in the booths next to them.

It wasn’t long until they were driving home. The radio was off and there was a peaceful quiet. They were stopped at a red light when that quiet was disturbed.

Armin, puzzled, looked to the left.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out on the pavements of the road, was their car being struck by a semi-truck; leaving both of them bloodied from glass shredding bits of skin.

A/N: sorry not sorry. too fluffy. fight me.

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