Annie almost closed the door. She would've had she been greeted by any other person, but she didn't have the heart to turn Armin away. “Sure.” She mumbled, stepping aside to allow him entrance. “How come you're here?”

“My car broke down about a mile away and it's starting to snow pretty heavily.” Armin admitted, unravelling his long blue scarf and tugging himself out of his coat. “I still live in the middle of the city. That's a couple of miles out, and I remembered you lived nearby, so I was wondering if I could stay the night. If you don't mind, of course. I wouldn't want to impose.”

Truthfully, Annie was unsure. She wasn't used to having visitors, and Armin would have to sleep on the couch even he did stay, so he wouldn't be in for a particularly comfortable night. “It's fine.” She told him, gesturing for his scarf. He passed it over so she could find an unoccupied radiator to drape it across.

Armin breathed a sigh of relief, unlacing his boots and leaving them by the door so not to trek too much snow through the rest of Annie's house. “Thank you so much.” He grinned. “I'd be in serious trouble right now, if it weren't for you, Annie. You're a lifesaver.”

Annie nodded. “It's alright.”

Armin finished sorting himself out and Annie found him some spare blankets. She dumped them on the couch in her living room and turned on the electric fire.

“Do you want anything to drink?” She offered, but he waved a hand in dismissal.

“No thanks.” He beamed, plonking himself down by the fire, dragging a blanket onto the carpet. “I'm alright.”

There came a point in the evening where they found themselves sitting side by side with duvets around their shoulders, basking in front of the fire as the snow continued to pile up outside.

“You're lucky you broke down where you did and not any further away from town.” Annie mumbled, curling into a ball. “How come you were out so far anyway?”

“Job interview.” Armin smiled, turning to Annie with a somewhat dazed look etched upon himself. “For Survey Corporations, as a market researcher and campaign tactician.”

Annie pulled a face. She was a public services kind of girl, herself, working for the urban police a few miles down the road. She usually walked to work and back, or caught the bus if she were feeling lazy. The idea of spending her days cooped up indoors, working on some campaign for a product which was never going to sell – because really, who'd heard of Survey Corporations selling anything of note in the last five or so years? No, that definitely wasn't for her. “You sure pick the exciting ones, Armin.” She grumbled, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Just like back at college.”

Armin let out an unstrained bark of laughter from somewhere deep in his throat, and Annie's almost-but-not-quite grin widened. “I know.” He nodded, smiling from ear to ear. “But I could say the same for you, slacker.”

“Hey,” Annie shoved his arm playfully and Armin rocked to the side. “I wasn't a slacker. Just didn't see the point in working for something that wasn't going to get graded. There's no point in something that doesn't earn you points.”

“I suppose you're right, because you turned out just fine.” Armin recalled, leaning back against the front of the couch. Arguably, they should've been curled up on the cushions instead of sitting on the floor, but they were having a nice enough time on the carpet, sitting with their shoulders touching and their knees sticking into each other.

“Of course.” Annie nodded, and silence lapsed between them as they noted how long it'd truly been since they last spoke together like friends, since they last enjoyed each other's company and had a decent conversation, instead of just waving in passing on the street.

“It's been too long.” Armin chuckled hollowly, shaking his head. “Why didn't we stay in touch?”

“Life's always hectic, Armin.” Annie frowned. She hated this side of him: the sentimental fool that could never let go of anything. “Don't beat yourself up over it, it's fine.”

“But I missed you.” Armin protested, glancing at her sideways. “It's been too long and I've missed you and you're living in the middle of nowhere by yourself.”

Annie shrugged. “Bertoldt and Reiner live nearby. And that strange girl from second year, Ymir. She's from around here, too.”

Armin didn't press the issue. He drew his legs up to his chest. “Do you sometimes wish we could go back?” He asked quietly. “To how we were in college? To how things were?”

“...I don't know.” Annie confessed. “I'm not sure.”

“Alright.” Armin nodded.

The snow continued to mount higher and higher, until Annie's windows were half-obscured and the pair came to the realisation that they'd probably be snowed in for a little while. Or until morning, at least, when Annie would inevitably decide to take matters into her own hands by jumping from one of the windows on the upper floor, or by simply kicking the front door down. She and Armin continued to talk into the early hours of the morning, indulging in one another's company. It was like time had slowed to a stop and regressed back on itself. They were back in college again, chatting away with no regard for the time or world outside their conversation.

Eventually, a few tell-tale signs of fatigue started to make themselves known and Annie was struggling to swallow yawns.

“You're tired.” Armin observed, to which Annie rolled her eyes.

“Obviously.” She scoffed, grinning lazily. “It's three in the morning.”

Armin smiled and leaned back, before shifting himself to lie on the couch. “Is it really?” He mused. “Didn't notice.”

“Of course you didn't.” Annie murmured, her eyelids becoming heavy. Sleep was too irresistible.

She pushed herself up, glancing one last time out the window when Armin timidly reached for her hand, a little unsure. She was caught off guard. “Armin?”

“Stay.” He whispered. It was a request more than anything. He was so sure she'd turn him away and march back to her bedroom, leaving him in the cold instead of ending the night in his arms, like they had a few years back. He missed those nights, and he yearned for nothing more than the chance to hold her in his arms once more, to keep her close instead of allowing their paths to split apart, leading their hearts in opposite directions.

She stared at him, her tired eyes wide. Their hearts skipped a few beats each. “Alright.” She said slowly, cautiously, before slipping onto the couch beside him, letting him wrap her in a tight embrace, pulling the blankets and duvets around them both.