#annimin

—

When Armin opens his eyes, the first thing that greets his sight is a girl.

His dry lips part open in surprise, a rough gasp making its way out of them — he finds his voice much too hoarse, throat much too tight to even attempt to speak coherently.

Her eyes are as cold as ice, her hair a pallid blonde. As she leans down over him, her soft yet angular face is covered in shadows. No sweat runs down her body despite the heavy warm sweater protecting her small frame against the sun’s harsh, merciless rays, her books carefully held to her side in petite, delicate hands.

Reading is his passion, the feeling of his mind processing and understanding the meaning behind black words printed on white paper, his hands resting against the soft, flexible or hard, unmoving covers — whether the letters were as small as ants or as big as one-inch embroidery designs, the boy enjoys the lectures of all kind. His heart leans towards non-fiction, however. He adores reading about the Earth he lives in, discovering the diverse places he can only dream of visiting.

Naturally, his interests were glued to biology, geography and the like. Romance was not in a high place of his reading list. Love at first sight was a concept he was unfamiliar with. He wasn’t closed about the possibility, but it certainly was an experience he had never gone through before.

"You fell asleep reading," She explains quietly, her voice as soft as silk, smooth as recently polished wood and detached. Apathy is strong in her features, her eyes reflecting boredom and carelessness. The grip on her books is secure, her body not swaying with the wind of autumn. She’s not as delicate as she seems, is what he notices, and she speaks once more. "It’s time for class."

Love at first sight is something he was slightly skeptic about. It’s something he has read and heard about, however, so he is not entirely unconvinced about the possibility. But, as she walks away, shrugging off their first encounter as one would with a stranger on the streets, he does not feel his heart racing nor his palms sweating, his breathing accelerating nor his thoughts swirling. He does, though, feel a rather strong intrigue of sorts of which he does not know the source of.

He rises from his position, his eyelids heavy and his back aching, and closes the open yet forgotten book on his lap in order to make his way inside.

—

Her eyes are as cold as ice, but they hold a spark of annoyance as she walks with two giants by her sides. Reiner and Bertholdt were impossible to miss regardless of how abundant the crowd around them was. The blond was big and burly, the aura surrounding him powerful and hard to ignore, difficult to exclude. Bertl was less attention-grabbing, his small nervous quirks indicated he was better off without the pressure of people’s gazes on him, but his tall height made that hard to achieve.

It didn’t look like they were friends. The males walked side by side, but the distance between them was considerable to those who paid close attention. Annie’s shoulders were somewhat dropped, notaccepting of their presence but more resigned than anything else.

That same intrigue from before resurfaced, hitting him hard. The blond could not help but wonder who they were to each other, how long they’ve been by her side, since when had she been in their company — had her presence been overshadowed by the giants surrounding them? That was plausible.

Eren’s the one returning his attention to the conversation he had originally been part of until Annie came to view. He gives his best friend an apologetic smile and does his best  to immerse himself back into topic. The brunet lets it go easily, not without a curious glance, but Mikasa looks at him with unreadable eyes before she carries on as well.

Armin releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and unknowingly gazes back at Annie. She is eating her lunch neatly, left hand holding a fork and the right one flipping the pages of her notebook. Her eyebrows are narrowed in the softest concentration, her nose scrunched up in thought, and lips curled in consideration and Armin can’t help but smile.

—

Her eyes are as cold as ice, but they held a bit of hatred as she watches Reiner and Bertholdt converse. Armin isn’t quite sure what is going on, and it is not his business to ask even if they sat in the table in front of his in the library.

Their whispers are much too loud, but they’re also much too hurried to even try to understand what it is said. Armin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, azure hues darting from side to side, fingers drumming against his open book because he feels like he’s listening to something he shouldn’t, because it seems he is in the wrong place at the wrong time. Reiner’s expression is stern, his arms are crossed in front of his chest and his back is straight, looking down at Annie. Bertholdt’s face is softer, but, in some way, much more eerie than the blond’s. He isn’t sweating or moving around like he usually is, and that itself is unnerving, that sudden yet meaningful change that Armin has seen but refused to acknowledge until now. Annie does not flinch or speak when Reiner mutters one last thing and stands up, leaving the library with Bertl on his heels.

The blonde says nothing as she gathers her things neatly, closing her books and placing them inside her bag. Her movements are slightly rigid, however, and her jaw is tightly clenched shut. She isn’t hurried, but her steps as she walks away have more strength behind them than usual.

Armin catches sight of a forgotten item sitting on the chair she had previously been on. The drumming of his fingers stop completely and he finds himself momentarily paralyzed as he mentally debates whether to pick it up and give it to her or just leave it there to be found by someone else.

But she’s already by the door, and they share no classes together, so he takes a deep breath and stands up, dropping a pencil of his own and walks towards her.

"Annie!" Her name rolls off his lips smoothly, and he finds that he rather likes the way it feels as she stops and glances back at him. Irritation is quite clear in her face, but he does not let it deter him — he wouldn’t look like a fool in their first real exchange of words, he tells himself. "You dropped this."

Even so, he licks his lips in nervousness and his palms are sweating as he shows her the pen. It is quite plain, he notices from the back of his mind — easily replaceable, worthless at most. This makes him more unnerved. Did he look like an idiot now? Most likely.

Her face softens, however, and his heart skips a beat. 

—

Her eyes are cold as ice, but Armin can see a hint of warmth as Eren tries to understand what she’s explaining. It’s a topic Armin was quite familiar with, but his best friend had refused any help of his for the blond had always helped him out in his assignments.

Mikasa is not pleased, and Armin can’t help but share her animosity as he sees the subtle curve up of Annie’s lips and the soft gaze she has as Eren keeps trying for what seems to be an eternity to get something she continues explaining.

An invisible and thin red thread wraps around the short blond’s throat. His breath hitches and his heart beats heavily, fingers twitching and body freezing. He does not know why this happens, why he feels like something was burning in the pit of his stomach, why he wants them to stop.

Armin is fifteen years old and naive, and merely smiles when they turn to look at him for a second before resuming their task.  —

When he opens his eyes, the first thing that greets his sight is the girl who he has been in love with for quite the few years now. 

His dry lips part open in surprise, a rough gasp making its way out of them — he finds his voice much too hoarse, throat much too tight to even attempt to speak coherently.

Her eyes are as cold as ice, her hair a pallid blonde. As she leans down over him, her soft yet angular face is covered in shadows. No shiver runs down her body thanks to the over-sized graduation gown protecting her small frame against the climate’s harsh, merciless chilling air, her diploma carefully held to her side in petite, delicate hands.

"You fell asleep reading," She explains quietly, her voice as soft as silk, smooth as recently polished wood and detached. Apathy is strong in her features, her eyes reflecting boredom and carelessness. The grip on her books is secure, her body not swaying with the rugged wind of autumn. She’s not as delicate as she seems, is what he notices, and she speaks once more. "It’s time for practice."

A strong sense of déjà vu hits the blond as she stands straight, the light hitting her face just right. She’s beautiful, he knows, and by now he has learned to appreciate the way her lips curl up in the slightest of smiles, her eyes half-close in fondness, her hair covering her eye as she leans her head down to write, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion, her nose scrunching up in discontent, her shoulders straightening in challenge…

Her eyes are cold as ice, but by now Armin had learned to recognize this was a defense mechanism no one had been able to defeat. He knew how to distinguish the annoyance from the tiredness, the content from the sighs, the smiles from the frowns.