The Freak with Blue Eyes (Eremin) {editing}

4. want

A/N~tw!!!!! mentions of self-harm and suicide later in the chapter please be safe y'all

4. want

Armin's POV

No one is immune to unhappiness.

That much should be fact. Your circumstances don't always define your state of well-being.

As for me, the familiar unhappiness was beginning to seep back in through the cracks of good memories—melancholy creeping in over me like a blanket. It didn't matter that Eren was regularly hugging me when we said goodbye, or that I found a home in his jacket way more often, or that his texts were far more frequent.

I was drowning, with no one to pull me above the surface.

The week following Jean's party went by at a normal rate. Jean and I were consistently talking in class, to the point where I considered us acquaintances. My days were passing by with no major disruptions, but I felt like I was simply going through the motions, a numbness constantly pulsing at the center of my being.

After an uneventful weekend, it was Monday. As I retrieved books from my locker, I felt a purposeful shove that smacked me into the locker, and I rubbed at a sore spot on my cheek in annoyance.

"That your boyfriend's jacket?" a familiar tormentor's voice sneered, and my shoulders slumped in utter defeat.

"Please just...just leave me alone," I murmured, all too aware of how weak my voice sounded. I refused to turn around, and dignify his taunting with a response.

"Come on, we're just having a little fun," he continued, voice lowering as it dipped closer to my ear. His arms snaked around my waist and I yelped, flinching at the jolt of discomfort. Trying to squirm out of the grasp, his grip only tightened, trapping me against the locker. "This is what you like, isn't it?" he continued, pressing himself against my back, the sneer still ever-present in his voice. His hands dipped lower, brushing against my backside, and I just continued to whimper and struggle, shoving against his broad chest with my palms, wishing that my locker wasn't tucked into a corner...

That is, until someone yanked him back swiftly, shoving him against the neighboring locker. Yet again, I flinched, but this time I allowed myself to turn to face the pair locked in confrontation, finding myself face-to-face with Jean. Fury flashed in his hazel eyes as he pinned the dark-haired boy by the throat, sneer long gone and gaze replaced with pure terror. He delivered a sharp punch that knocked my tormentor in the jaw, causing him to stumble backwards into the wall. As he scampered off, Jean turned to me, enraged expression dissipating into concern.

"Armin! Are you okay?" he inquired, inspecting the imprint of the locker on my cheek. His tone embodied worry, kind eyes searching my face for any sign of emotion.

Of course, my instinctive reaction, before I could even fully process what had just happened, was to burst into tears. Things were embarrassing enough already—why did I have to crumble into a pathetic pile of emotions in front of Jean?

Jean said nothing, just draped an arm around my shoulders, allowing me to shuffle closer to him, my whole being trembling with quiet sobs. Shielding my face with a sleeve-covered hand, I let Jean guide me down the hall, unable to register his soothing words of comfort in my undying embarrassment.