i'm not crying, i'm dying {annie/armin}

The massacre felt like ten years ago.

The Capitol could forgive and forget in a heartbeat. The streets bathed in the blood of innocents had been paved over and bleached clean – not a speck of evidence remaining from the incident, as if it had never happened. He waited days for the official report to be released. They only heard rumors from news broadcasts and Petra, who had sustained multiple injuries from the duel. The assailant was described as a person in an armored suit, all identifying features shielded by a sturdy helmet. Petra claimed to have sliced through the material hard enough to draw blood. The blood staining the edge of her blade seemed like sufficient evidence to support that claim, so it was also included in the report.

The Capitol called it an unfortunate crime. After a few days they dropped the subject completely, reminding the world that life only moved forward. Meanwhile, the Peacekeepers called it a terrorist attack. It didn’t feel like a random act of violence – why else would they wait for the Survey Corps to depart on a mission far far away? It had to be a calculated attack, and whether it was an act of vengeance or a message for the Capitol was still a mystery. Or maybe it’s both.

Blood had never made him queasy, but the idea of murdering another human being did not sit well in his gut. When he heard of the incident, his stomach churned. It was even worse knowing the assailant had escaped. They were still lurking in their territory somewhere, perhaps planning their next attack as they recuperated. What if they didn’t target citizens next time? What if they’re after us?

To keep his paranoia at bay, he stayed up late to read books from the Headquarters’ library. Fortunately when that didn’t work, he had a second distraction. A memory.

He knew a drunken kiss wasn’t supposed to hold a lot of meaning, but it continued to linger at the edge of his mind. Over breakfast, he thought remember the night you kissed Annie? It was almost surreal, gathering that much confidence with just a few sips of liquor. He still hated the burning taste of it. His first drink and his first kiss had been knocked out in one night, and he didn’t know how to handle the memory of it. Should he ignore it, and realize that by dwelling on it he was only digging himself into a deeper hole of overanalysis? Or was there actually something there?

You can’t solve this with logic, Arlert.

He was browsing through flower shops when he heard of Annie’s accident. Hospitalized from a leg injury, they said. He bought a bouquet.

There were a hundred things he wanted to say, but the hospital was no place for that. He wanted to keep it a short, pleasant visit so Annie would have time to recover. The timing is suspicious, isn’t it?

She was his friend.

He didn’t want to ruin that, but he found himself in a garden anyways. When he plucked a rose, Annie disappeared. Whether it was a faraway mission or a leave of absence, he didn’t know. He stored the flower in a vase for safekeeping, and watched the petals droop within a few days. He replaced it with another rose, a different color. It wilted along with his confidence, and concern for her well-being began to overpower him.

He found comfort in his friends. Today, it was breakfast with Eren. As usual, he had a rose in his jacket and a seat closest to the exit. His friends didn’t question his habits anymore; tensions were high after the massacre, and nobody wanted to think about how much blood had been spilled in these streets. He wondered if Annie’s absence was somehow connected to the attack. Was a friend of hers a victim, and she hadn’t told anyone?

His mind spun, and he walked back to Headquarters alone. The floors smelled like polish and aged chemicals. The library was toward the west, and he craved the smell of old books and shelf dust over the sterile environment. He didn’t want this place to remind him of hospitals.

”Arlert!” A voice stopped him, somewhat familiar. He paused and turned around.

”Yes?”

”You’re friends with Annie, right?”

His guts curled up into a knot. What was this about?

”Yes.” I like to think so.

”I just saw her – she looked really upset. I think she went into the locker room, but I don’t wanna bother her. Maybe you can talk to her?”

His mind focused onto a fixed point – Annie’s back. But it was not under the best circumstances.

He nodded. ”Yeah, I’ll talk to her.”

Shuffling into the locker room, quiet as a mouse, he listened. The sound of breaths erased his doubts, so he turned the corner and settled his anticipation. He confirmed that it was her, Annie Leonhardt, but a side he had never seen before. A side that left him dumbfounded, if it were possible.

For a moment, he was frozen. He didn’t want to startle her. There was a reason she was in here – she doesn’t want anyone to see her. And he understood, but he also couldn’t leave her in this state. What kind of friend would that make him?

Quietly, he interrupted. ”Annie?”

[ firestorm ]

Armin was no stranger to tears. Bruised eyes and swollen cheeks, he was backed into corners and labeled heretic as a child because he never enjoyed the Hunger Games. He hated violence and propaganda. Bullies took advantage of his refusal to retaliate, and his small stature didn’t exactly aid him. That was how he met his best friend – curled into a pathetic ball, cheeks stained with salt and fear. Eren found him and defended him until he was also black and blue, and they could endure together. Years later, they enlisted into Peacekeeper training, and it was the most difficult challenge he had ever faced. He was no stranger to tears because after hours of being pummeled into the dirt, hearing “mutt bait!” pounded between his skull, he retreated to his bunker to cry. He thought he wasn’t good enough.

Being the weakest? It sucked. Yet he had accomplished so much over the years that his comrades refused to make him feel anything but proud.

Here he stood, graduated from a ruthless training class, a certified Peacekeeper and soldier of the Survey Corps – and still no stranger to tears, because that aspect of his humanity was branded in his conscience for life. Fortunately, it equipped him with the right amount of empathy. Mixed with logic, that was a concoction for success in this world of brainwashing, violence, and discrimination. He didn’t want to think of tears as a weakness; he wanted them to make him feel human. Humans are supposed to feel emotions, and they’re supposed to express themselves. Tears should never be shamed nor mocked, not even in this line of work. There was a time and place, however.

This was the time and the place. It was a secluded locker room, empty and void of life, and he felt like he was intruding. He didn’t know if Annie was a stranger to tears, but his heart ached for her. He didn’t want to see her in pain. What happened? He was eager to ask, but he had heard the question a thousand times. Everything happened, all at once. If she was overwhelmed, he didn’t want to send her overboard.

”If you tell anyone I was crying, I'll kick your ass, and don't think I won't, Arlert.”

It was safer to assume she was telling the truth. Annie had graduated 4th of their class, and could best Eren in close combat. She could send Armin spiraling into the lockers and leave him with a concussion if she wanted. As her friend, he didn’t genuinely believe she would follow through with something that harsh, but he would rather take her seriously than not.

”I won’t tell anyone,” he promised.

He took a step closer, hands by his sides. He was naturally curious, so he wanted to know why she was in here and why she was upset. He was also worried. If something terrible was happening, he wanted to help. Annie was infamous for being aloof and distant, especially now that they were in the Survey Corps and she wasn’t. He respected that decision; it was tempting because it was safe. Up until the massacre, nobody felt threatened in the streets of the Capitol. Fighting escaped mutations in the forest was risky. Most Peacekeepers scoffed at the idea of throwing away the opportunity for an easier job. He’d do the same if he hadn’t been so inspired by his best friends (and lonely without them).

He didn’t think any less of Peackeepers who didn’t join the Survey Corps. The Capitol still needed powerful soldiers to patrol the streets. Joining the Survey Corps was probably crazier; it was spontaneous, dangerous, and unpredictable. It was also stressful, but he wouldn’t ask for anything different. Annie wanted something different, and that was okay. It simply created a divide between them. He wanted to break that divide and see more of her. That night had changed them, and he wasn’t sure why. He needed to know why. Was he obsessive, or was it something more? It was a stirring in his gut that would not quit.

Annie was not just some aloof soldier. She was a person, she had feelings, and something was wrong. Perhaps it had something to do with her disappearance, or her visit to the hospital the last time he had seen her. He was still faintly aware of the rose tucked within the pocket of his jacket, but he paid no mind to it.

He could wait another day.

”Do you want to talk?”

coding : elegant

He paused.

There was a startle response, brief but noticeable. Her body flinched as if Armin were a threatening force, and it glued his heels to the tile. He blinked and wondered if he had imagined it. Annie was usually not the type to express vulnerability. She was sturdy, the eye of the storm, but she could also be the storm. She didn’t graduate 4th of their class for nothing. She possessed fighting techniques far beyond his own level, and nothing about her ever screamed afraid. But the startle reflex warned him that something was off. Annie wasn’t just crying; something had happened to her. More and more details were coming to light, and he grew worried as the seconds passed. What is it, Annie?

He resisted the urge to pry. One step too far, and she could shut him off completely. She had to trust him, just as he trusted her.

He offered to talk and that was all. It didn’t matter the subject. If she needed to vent about the stresses of her job, so be it. If discussing the weather would help her take her mind off of the world’s atrocities, he would sit down and listen to every word of it. He was arguably the quietest member of the squad. Silence was sacred; it was the time he spent observing, thinking, and strategizing. He had to contemplate their next move before it was made, because impulse meant certain danger (although Eren never seemed to grasp that concept, or he simply didn’t care). Even during social events he was usually quiet, but that never meant he wasn’t attending.

If anyone could sit and absorb information patiently, it was Armin.

He stood away from her, nonthreatening. She sat on the bench and apologized for her absence. It was easy to fall prey to the Capitol’s chaos. He wouldn’t blame anyone for wanting a break, especially after the massacre. An investigation was still underway, even as the Capitol smothered it with news about the Hunger Games and the next big fashion celebrity. Their world was a mess and they were all forced to live in it.

Still, he knew there was something more to this. “Needing space” was honest, but barely scratched the surface of the real issue. When Armin needed space, he locked himself in his bedroom to sort through the bombarding feelings. Usually these emerged from a specific event – a bad day of training, a particularly dangerous mission, the massacre. He had to be alone with his own thoughts, no distractions, no added stress. It was a time to gather his wits and (hopefully) formulate a solution. Something serious must’ve happened to Annie, but if this was all she wanted to reveal then he would not pursue it further. Private events were private events. Secrets are secrets.

”I understand,” he said, nodding.

I missed you.

He gulped and decided against admitting it. It felt like such an awkward truth, and a perfect way to ruin the moment – but we’re friends, aren’t we? His feelings no longer cooperated with that term. His mind and his heart were in agreement that he could see her as something more.

It felt against his better judgment, but he pulled the rose out of his jacket. ”I uh, saved something for you.”

Maybe it was a mistake, but he would take the gamble.

He offered her the flower, hoping to banish the red tint in his cheeks.

[ firestorm ]