He'd thought it would have just been another restless night – evidently – this wouldn't be the case. Smaller boy Pushes himself from the comfort of his bunk, standing slowly. Sleep still weighs heavy on his lids, blonde taking several staggering steps forward. An almost silent yawn as he walks. He knows exactly where he aims to go. He's quick to find the familiar large frame, and even quicker to slide into the spot beside him. A hint of a smile plays on lips, a contented sigh.
In sleep, there is refuge from the nightmare of Reality. In sleep, he is not a wolf living amongst sheep. In sleep, he is not drenched with the blood of hundreds, wallowing, drowning… In sleep, he smiles. In sleep, he is…
…a Soldier.
A shifting. A presence. It is small and warm and gentle. Thick arms instinctually wrap around the body that has materialized beside him. Perhaps he is still dreaming. Perhaps this slight, soft companion is the harbinger of an even deeper sleep, an even sweeter delusion…
It isn’t Bertholdt, he realizes. The frame is too petite. And the smell is different. It is an earthen smell, a smell of parchment and oleander. Goldenrod eyes open and blink several times. Even in the darkness, permeated only by a weak sliver of moonlight through the barracks’ window, he registers hay-colored hair.
Reiner smiles, then fights to conceal it.
“Armin,” he whispers in the dark. “What are you doing here?”
