REGALLY BLOND. armin arlert

[ 011 - 012 ]

011 ;

WARMING
UP

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AT SIX IN THE morning, you heard a knock on the door. It shook you up, yet you were also relieved that it wasn't the intercom that blasted you to consciousness first thing in the morning. You searched for Mikasa in her bed, although you could only see some sheets. Huh, alright.

You got up, taking the time to stretch your limbs before walking to the door to answer it. You didn't expect Prince Armin to be standing on the other side of the door, staring down at you with his marvelous blue hues. Your eyes instantly widened and you automatically jumped back in shock, your hand clapping on your mouth to stop the scream that you felt in your throat.

That's when you noticed how sad Armin was looking. His eyes were sunken and tired, and his mouth was angled to a frown. He looked so done with life at that moment. "Can you please come up to my room?" he muttered huskily. His breath smelled like mint that it dulled your senses for a moment.

"Can I brush my teeth first?" you asked, to which he gave a sheepish nod. "You can go back to your room, Your Highness. I promise I'll follow."

"Alright," he whispered before turning around and disappearing into the hallway.

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You knocked on the door fifteen minutes later, immediately answered by Armin himself, who was still looking very crestfallen and exhausted. "Sit down on my bed," he instructed as the door closed behind him and you obliged. He sat beside you promptly after, setting his hands on his lap.

"What's wrong, Armin?" you softly asked to break the tension between you. "Did something bad happen?"

He shrugged. "I dreamt about Zeke... again."

Your mouth formed an 'o'. "Is this the first time it's happened?" His head shook. "How often do you dream about this, if you don't mind telling me? I'll listen to everything you have to say."

"Well," he began, reluctance prevalent in his tone, "I can't say how many in a week, but quite often than normal. It haunts me... the past always finds a way to haunt me. It's as if I'm being dragged down into the pit of Tartarus."

You rubbed his shoulder blade soothingly. "And that's why I'm here to pull you out of it. Tell me, do you remember what it's about?"

"I do." He met your eyes, searching for something warm in them, like a hearth, to calm him down. "It's always the same whenever it comes to me—that day... when Zeke died." His voice started to become quieter as if he was going to sob.

Your own version of Zeke's assassination that you had witnessed through live television played inside your head and for a moment, you thought you were going to choke. "You don't have to go through the details," you reassured him. "I-I know what happened."

He lowered his head. "Y/N, I really miss him every single day. Sometimes, I like to think about what the future would have been if he was still here... but then I remember how much I've endured after his death and how hard it has been. The overwhelming amount of expectations he passed on to me is weighing me down; there's just too many for me to handle. Father wanted me to be strong, manly, and fierce—his interpretation of a 'man'... something I am not.