Chapter Text
It happened in the most embarrassing way imaginable.
She had done this dozens of times by now. Twice a day, carrying food to her father over the rocky dirt patch where the Eldian refugees had been sent to make camp in the week since the Rumbling.
It wasn’t even dark out. That, by far, had been the worst part about the way she’d twisted her ankle on a rock that was the size of a baseball. It wasn’t a small thing, and as she bit back a grimace of pain she wasn’t sure if it was her leg or her pride that was hurting more.
“Annie?”
She glanced up, only to feel her head fall down in shame immediately. She’d been wrong. This was the worst part of tripping on a rock on broad daylight.
“Annie?” Armin’s voice was firm, laced with concern and a lingering touch of alarm. She could admit that she probably hadn’t made for a very pretty picture as she fell. “Are you okay?”
She couldn’t get her head to lift itself and meet his eyes, but she did find her voice. “I’m alright.” If barely. She coughed and cleared her throat. “I’m alright,” she said again, louder and firmer. “You got here fast.”
“Huh? Yeah, I happened to be looking this way and then I saw you fall.” Cool as ever. Well, Annie could be cool too.
“Do you happen to look this way often?”
He didn’t respond right away, and she could practically hear the gears in his head trying to spin their magic. It sparked a little thrill in her, one that grew and grew with each passing moment. Eventually he spoke and, to his credit, his tone was mostly even.
“Only during dinner time. It’s a nice view then.”
She’d been expecting a counter, but even with that anticipation she was powerless against its effect. She felt her cheeks warming up as she continued to stare at the ground, fighting and almost winning against the twitch tugging at the corner of her lips.
“That’s funny,” she said. “I like to spend dinner time out here too.” She finally found a way to lift her head, swinging her gaze up to meet his. “But you’ve probably noticed that.”
It was only there for half of a second, but she’d seen it. A hitch in his breath, and a widening of his eyes. The sight of it, her flash of a victory, gave her a sense of immense satisfaction. Brief as it was, she’d had him, if for just a moment. It was a start.
He had the gall to look sheepish. “Um. Yeah, I’ve seen you out here a time or two.”
She raised an eyebrow and pressed the attack. “A time or two? Well, that just makes me all the more lucky doesn’t it?”
He laughed loudly, and she couldn’t help but smile herself. It was a nice sound. He nodded towards her leg. “Is it bad?”
Annie lifted her foot and gingerly placed it flat on the ground, hissing as even that most basic contact sent a shockwave throughout her leg. “Yeah,” she said through a grimace. “I don’t think I can walk on this right now.”
“Alright. Here then.” There it was again, that tone of concern. The sound of it fluttered her insides. He was too good to her. She jolted as he crouched down near her level, grabbing her by the arm. “Hang over my shoulder, I’ll help you walk. Your dad is close, right?”
His face was so close that she could feel it, the gap between them bridged by mere inches of warm, electrified air. She forced her eyes to turn the other way. If she looked at him just now she might melt. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, nodding weakly as she flung her arm over the length of his broadening shoulders and pushed against the ground to assist his lifting her to her feet.
After taking a moment to find their balance, she risked a glance at his face beside her. There was a crinkle in his brow from the physical exertion, and his cheeks had tinged the cutest shade of pink as he huffed and puffed. It was a nice sight. Armin was becoming a very handsome man.
“Hey. I just wanted to say—” She paused, briefly caught speechless as he brought his eyes over to find hers. “Uh. I just wanted to say, I’m glad you happened to look this way.”
He smiled, bright and warm, and the sight of it flooded her with a feeling she couldn’t put a name to. “Me too. Now, how about we get going? It looks like one of those bowls is still good. You probably don’t want to eat it standing here.”
She couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t make assumptions, Commander. You’ve no idea how I like my meals. Unless…” She grinned. “Maybe you’ve seen me out here often enough that you do know my habits.”
Another thrill raced through her when he gasped, jolting her body against her own as they limped along. Her grin got bigger.
Armin didn’t say anything for a while, conjuring a silence dulled by the grunts of their dual effort.
“Does it still hurt?” he eventually asked.
She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “The ankle that I just tripped over and can’t walk on?”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “Right. I guess I could have known.” He paused. “Sorry. It’s probably not much fun for you.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “No, not much fun,” she repeated. “But— thanks. I don’t mind the pain so much. It’s sort of like a reminder, you know?” He nodded, and she caught a glimmer of something in his eye confirming that yes, he did know. If she were to ask Reiner about it, or Pieck, would they know what she meant? Would she see it in their eyes, too?
The cuts and scrapes. The bruising. The occasional jammed finger or, like tonight, twisted ankle. They would never forget what they were now, as surely as they’d never forget what they’d been before.
Armin caught her eye and smiled, warm and understanding. He couldn’t keep doing this to her. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He glanced forward and started. “Isn’t that your dad there?”
She turned to look and saw that he spoke true, and within a minute she was being eased into a sitting position on the ground. She handed the bowl of stew that was surely cold by now to her father, who wordlessly accepted it with an inquisitive expression.
“I fell on the way here,” she explained. “The other bowl wasn’t salvaged.”
He blinked, staring at her for a moment before pushing the bowl back towards her. “I can’t have this if it’s the only one.”
An irritated huff slipped out of her. “You’re having it because it’s the only one. I didn’t walk all the way out here and do this to myself—” She gestured to her injured leg. “—just to make you watch me eat.”
After staring at her for a moment, he grumbled and sat back down, bowl still in hand. She took the time to make sure that he was eating it before turning back to Armin, standing awkwardly a few feet away.
“Thanks for your help.” She felt the warmth bleeding into her voice and couldn’t help smiling.
He returned her smile with a brilliant one of his own, radiant and kind. It was going to be the death of her. “Don’t mention it. I’m always happy to help.” He hesitated, glancing at her father before finding her again. “Uh, so you’re okay here?”
She nodded slowly, understanding his trepidation. There was a part of her that didn’t want to say goodbye, either. The part of her that always hated saying goodbye to Armin.
“Yeah. I’m alright.”
After a moment spent staring at one another he nodded as well. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you later. Nice to see you, Mr. Leonhart.” He gave a wave of farewell, catching her eye one last time. “Bye Annie.”
She suddenly found herself feeling very cold despite the warmth of the spring evening. When she forced her voice out it was barely more than a whisper. “Bye, Armin.” With a heavy heart she watched him turn and walk away, hoping against hope that he might turn around, if only just to look at her again.
He never did.