𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸'𝚖 𝙶𝚘𝚗𝚎 | 𝙰. 𝙰𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚝

•02•

You were hoping he'd come back the next day, or maybe the day after, but it's been a week since you've seen Armin.

That name... Armin. It's perfect for him. The way it slips from your lips when you say it aloud and how it sounds in your ears; you wish you could hear him say it again. To whisper it... To sing it... All you want is for him to be standing in front of you with that dreamy smile and his loving blue eyes.

Your moms slender hands latch onto your shoulders, startling you from your thoughts. "Once you're done day dreaming can you help clean up the tables outside and stack the chairs so we can go home and start dinner for our guests tonight?" You straighten up from leaning on the counter with your elbows and slide your hand over the corner of the surface as you make your way towards the front.

"Here sweetheart," your mom calls after you. You look back at her and she tosses a wet rag at you.

You push the glass door open, the bell at the top ringing softly and then subsiding once the door closes. It seems the people who ate outside today, cleaned up after themselves, so all you need to do is wipe the tables and stack the chairs in order to go home.

You're not too sure who your parents invited over tonight, but you suppose it doesn't matter. You plan on going to one of the music performances in the city square. Lately you've been feeling restless and need things to occupy you or you'll get lost in your own head. No that's a lie... you're really just hoping you'll see Armin or one of his friends at the performance.

So far no luck...

You lean over the table and wipe the rag back and forth over the surface, getting rid of any left over residue from drinks or food that may have spilled from people's plates or mouths. The sun is still high in the sky, probably has another hour or so before it begins to set. That gives you enough time to head home and change your clothes before making your way into the middle of Liberio. It's sort of a long walk, but the performance doesn't even start until the sun is almost gone. They light the courtyard with warm lights and have food stands set up everywhere. People from all over gather there, which is why you're hoping you'll see Armin.

But maybe he really was just passing through...

"I um... I realized I never got your name," the voice you've been so desperately wishing for and hearing on repeat in your dreams is now coming from behind you. Real as ever. Perfect as ever.

You turn around, leaving the rag on the table and instinctively fix your clothes and hair. But it doesn't matter, Armin is glowing and outshining you in every way. He is dressed in a white button up and a grey wool vest with a black ascot cap covering his blonde hair, allowing only the sides and his bangs to gleam from the suns rays.

"You came back," the fluttering feeling in your chest is almost overwhelming as he stands before you.

"I wanted to see if you made the thing I suggested," he scratches the back of his head and moves his mouth to the left, looking innocent and adorable as his cheeks turn a soft shade of pink.

As you're admiring his features, you process his words. That's when you realize you completely spaced his pastry suggestion because you were too busy thinking about him and not what he had said.

"I haven't made it yet..." your voice is quiet and elongated.

"That's okay," he laughs it off like it's not an issue and shrugs gently. "But can I get-"

"My name! Right!" You perk up with embarrassment for not answering his question from before. "It's y/n."

"Nice to meet you," he gestures out his hand to you. For a moment all you can do is stare at his outstretched hand, admiring the curves of his fingers and his soft pale skin that is void of any blemishes or scars.