Eremin Smut

Saviors, Winter Nights, and a Piano

He runs his tired fingers along the rim of his glass, his eyes flickering through the crowd.  Armin sighs, taking a sip of his beer, staring into the depths of the amber liquid as if it had done something to upset him.  But the drink isn't what's bothering him.  He had never been a particularly social person and moving to Trost, leaving behind all he's ever known, was turning out to be not as fantastic of an idea as he once thought.  This was supposed to be where his dreams came true, where he got rich and went out with a group of friends on a friday night.  It wasn't where he was sitting alone in a bar, almost flat broke and only able to scrape together enough pennies by playing for people on the street.

And all his friends have abandoned him one way or another.  Whether it be because of his relocation nearly across the country or because of something so simple as a misunderstanding.  The memories haunt him, dancing across the walls, reminding him of better times when his dream seemed a little less impossible.  But the faces are unfamiliar and the money is scarce and Armin's old hope and ambition are lost along with everything else.  Left behind.  Forgotten.

Armin runs a hand through his disheveled blond hair and allows himself to take another look around the bar to observe the people.  Perhaps to see what he's missing, or maybe to try and find a reason to make him glad to be alone. 

When he first lays eyes on him, he can't breathe.  He's perhaps the most beautiful man Armin has ever seen in his entire life.  He doesn't know what it is that's so intriguing about him — the way his skin seems to glow in the dull light of the bar, the way his emerald eyes glimmer as he glances over the rim of his glass.  Either way, Armin is absolutely awe-struck, unable to tear his gaze away from the man sitting at the corner table.  He feels a flame ignite beneath his skin and bites his lip harshly.  He can't believe the thoughts beginning to run through his mind so he shuts them down before they can reach their destination.  Despite how much he could use some sort of company, even a small conversation, he forces himself to turn away and stare at the rapidly declining drink in his hand. 

He senses someone sit down next to him, but can't bring himself to look, both fear and something like excitement settling deep in his chest.  "Hi," a feminine voice says and Armin now lets his gaze lift to meet chocolate eyes.  He gives what he hopes is a decent smile.  "Hi," he greets the red-head, deciding to have another sip of his beer.  "My friends thought you were a girl," she says and Armin almost chokes on his drink.  "But I didn't.  Thought I'd come over to find out."

"Oh," he finds himself saying, averting his gaze nervously.  That was really what she came for?  That was a little embarrassing.  He feels a pressure on his thigh and when he looks, he sees her hand, her fingers digging slightly into his flesh.  It's more uncomfortable than whatever she's trying for.  She leans in close to his ear and Armin shivers, but not for the reason she probably wants.  "Mind if I check?" she asks and he doesn't know what to say.  Flirting isn't really his thing and he doesn't know what to do in a situation like this.  "I — um — I don't — I d-don't think . . ."

But before he can think of a way to word what he means, a hand comes down on the woman's shoulder and when Armin looks, he recognizes the interruption.  "Sorry, miss, but he's taken." the man says and even though he's smiling, Armin can sense the edge in his voice.  It takes a second for her to realize what's going on and when she does Armin is in such a state of surprise himself, he can't bring himself to laugh at her expression.  "Oh, I — !  I-I'm so sorry!" she stutters and she hurries off to her group of alleged friends.  Armin watches her go and when he looks back, the man is smiling — seemingly genuine this time.  "Sorry," he breathes and Armin loves the lopsided grin he gives him.  "Looked like you needed some saving."

Armin suddenly remembers he's now part of a conversation and smiles shyly.  "Yeah, I did.  Thanks."

"No problem."