#rivajearmin

WARNING: This small snippet contains possibly triggering content!! I don’t wanna give out exact warnings tho, so please don’t read this if you can’t handle anything triggering. (Nothing graphic, but it’s depicted)

Regarding ships, it’s the best if you are open to any ships, no matter how ‘problematic’ they are.

‘Support group for people with problematic issues’ it said on that flyer that Armin had detected on one of the pinboards at his university. 'If you are in a situation that you can’t entrust your usual first person of trust, we might help you by becoming the first step to your support.’ it read furthermore.

Armin didn’t know why that flyer had caught his attention. He had told himself that he would keep silent, no matter what. No one was allowed to know about his secret. It would destroy someone who was dear to him. He couldn’t risk that. A support group might even be a fatal decision. What if, by talking about it, he were to become more reckless afterwards?

Armin didn’t know why he ripped the yellow paper off the board and tugged it into his pockets.

Armin didn’t know why he went to that support group the next day.

An attempt to relieve his guilt?

Whatever it was, he was here now and he had entered the room where a blond woman greeted him and waved a hand at the chairs, that were arranged in a circle in the middle of the room, offering him to sit down wherever he wanted. Beside him, a boy with a two-coloured undercut was present, tapping away at his phone, absentmindedly, but with a smirk curling over his lips. Then, there was that other boy with an undercut – but raven-haired – who gave Armin a nasty glare. Their eyes met once before the guy turned his head to the right, chewing on his gum. As if he had lost interest in Armin’s presence in a mere second.

'Okay. That’s fine. I don’t mind.’ Armin wished that not all the others that were yet to come were like these two.

Fifteen minutes later, more people joined, every time the woman had kindly greeted them, her face too bright for someone who would consult with problematic young adults soon. Armin began to fidget in his seat.

All seats except one got occupied. The two-toned guy sat two seats away from Armin on the left, the raven-haired on the right side, one person sitting between them as well. He had swept a quick glances at both when the woman announced the beginning of the session, but neither one had spared him a look. No one else probably existed for them in this room, Armin thought, biting his lips nervously for no reason.

“I welcome you all to the support group here today, I’m Dina.” was her entrance speech. She emitted a calm and analysing aura. “This is the first time an expert like me is doing this kind of consultation—namely, letting people with 'problematic’ matters like you gather here and talk. You can consider it a test version, an experiment, and of course I will do my best to make it comfortable for everyone. There is a high chance that some of you will be advised to visit other ‘experts of these fields’ after one or two sessions. We first have to see whether you need more effective help than what we are going to do here. We want to specialize on problems that are rejected in society, but which you are indulging in. However, we mean the kind of issues that do not risk someone else’s life or dignity. You may rest assured that there is no rapist or murderer among us.”

Armin had looked at Dina, first. Out of curiosity (and because he liked to observe his surroundings), he took in the general reaction of the others. Either they stared off into the distance with indifference in their eyes or they bore invisible holes into the floor. No one bothered to even pretend giving Dina as much attention as was appropriate. Armin shifted in his seat. He would rather be at home in his room right now, regretting his decision of having come here. Or, to be honest, he would rather be with…

Dina placed her clipboard on her lap, hands folded on top of it. Her back straightened and she smiled to the round. “The purpose of these sessions are to have conversations with each of you about the issue you’re having. We want to help you find a way to come to peace where every party can be satisfied. For now, I’d like everyone to tell their name and age and explain their problem that brought them here. There are only two rules we have.” Her expression darkened with earnesty for a second, though of course – if anything – only Armin had noticed that. She raised a hand and spread two fingers one after another as she counted, “One, we do not judge. Two, everything that is said and done in this room, stays in this room.”

Tightening silence surrounded them all, but a few mutterings and people repositioning themselves on their seats was pretty much approval enough for Dina, so it seemed.

She put on her kind smile once more as she faced the first person to her right. “Would you like to start?”

With a shrug and a low “um”, the male introduced himself, “Hey. I’m Marc. 16. And I’m constantly telling my girlfriend that she’s too fat and needs to lose weight. She is doing as I’m telling her, but now I think she’s slowly slipping into anorexia.” Dina nodded and whipped her head to the next person that was the two-toned guy. While no one was supposed to comment on anything yet, Armin found the before mentioned male sending a slightly condemning look to the first guy. Which was rude, he said to himself in his mind.

“I’m Jean,” the two-toned boy said, “I’m 17. My mother died a year ago. She was the most important person in my life. I found a Sugar Mommy who looks almost exactly like her. I’m calling her Mommy and am always being reminded of my own mother. I don’t actually want that because it makes me treat her harshly with my words. To be honest, I don’t give a shit about her, but she spoils me and I can’t get enough of it. And she looks like mom. Yeah, I’m pretty much taking advantage of her.”

Dina acknowledged Jean’s input with yet another nod and silently gave permission for Armin’s left neighbour to start. “Yo. I’m Rooky. Not my real name, but I’d like you all to call me like that. 15. And I’m stealing money from my parents to buy alcohol and cigarettes with it. I can’t go a day without that stuff anymore. It’s shit, I know.”

Jean blinked fast and peered at him indiscreetly, brows crease, it formed a frown on his forehead. How could he have the audacity to act like that when he himself had a problem just like everybody else?, Armin thought.

Dina’s nod had eventually reached him. Armin stiffened. “Uh, h—hi. My name is Armin. I’m 16. And,” He fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, unsure where to look. The bland floor and then Dina’s face seemed to be a good option for him. “I’m having an affair with my best friend’s father who’s divorced. It’s happening for a while now. My friend doesn’t know about it of course. It would destroy our friendship completely. However, I don’t think I wanna stop. But I am afraid of getting caught by him. It’s giving me anxiety.” Even though it was a low petite scoff, Armin registered it and immediately shifted his eyes to Jean. Dina had noticed that too and was slightly narrowing her eyes at him.

Armin dismissed it very fast, though. Sooner or later Jean would understand that he wasn’t better than anyone else here.

It was the turn of Armin’s right seatmate. “I’m Duke. 18. I’m plucking my hair with my fingers. It isn’t as bad as that mental illness that’s behind it, just… Well I do it sometimes when I’m feeling lonely because it feels good, and then I stop with it for a few times until it starts all over. There are small bald spots forming on my head, I know! It’s upsetting me.” He inclined his head downwards. Armin resisted his natural curiosity and, out of decency, didn’t inspect the guy’s hair. First stages of trichotillomania. Armin and his best friend Eren had to hold a presentation about it in psychology class once.

Next one was the raven-haired boy that had discarded Armin’s existence like nothing. Even if Armin actually shouldn’t feel any differently because of it, it did create a pang in his chest. He felt offended, to be frank.

The guy started before Dina had nodded. “The name’s Levi. 17. I wanna tell you right away that why I’m doing what I’m doing is for no special reason. It’s just happening and I’m not minding it.” Armin had guessed that his voice would be of crude nature. But his actual tone certainly went beyond Armin’s expectations. No single word of Levi’s carried an ounce of regret, insecurity wasn’t his thing at all. And with a sharp coldness, tongue busy with the gum, he said, “I’m fucking my uncle.”

me: *is the writer of this thing* I wanna read more about it.

>.>

Art by 奏 | Source

Permission to repost was given by the artist.