𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸'𝚖 𝙶𝚘𝚗𝚎 | 𝙰. 𝙰𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚝

•11•

Armin is standing in front of you with his head hung and eyes planted on the ground with shame in them. He can't bring himself to look you and you can't say you are too upset about it.

You're not ready to face him yet, so you're finding comfort in the fact the floor is holding all of his attention.

"You can go," Armin finally speaks and at first you thought it was for you, but it's actually for the taller boy with sandy colored hair that's been keeping an eye on you from across the room.

"You sure?" The guy leans off the wall and scans over you carefully, like you're a threat. How could he think that when him and his people just destroyed your home and took you as a hostage. You're not the threat here.

"Im positive, Jean. I'll be fine," Armin's voice is soft and gentle, trying to convince his friend that he is confident you won't do anything, but there's also the chance he's just exhausted and drained off all energy.

Jean gives you one last look of concern for his friend and then leaves through the creaking metal door and closes it behind him, locking you and Armin in silence.

The bench you're sitting on is cold and you can feel it through your skirt. You're thankful for it, because it seems to be the only thing you can feel right now. The rest of you is completely numb. It's like you can't wrap your head around the events that have happened in the last thirty minutes and can only focus on your lap.

"Can you please say something?" Armin directs his words at you this time and you sort of wish Jean was back in the room so you could pretend Armin was speaking to him instead.

"I have nothing to say to you..."

It was hard to speak after keeping quiet for so long, but you're content that your voice was confident and strong. You don't want to show any sign of the fear and sadness that is welling inside you.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know. I'll answer any questions honestly," he sounds like he's pleading with you and it causes an aching in your chest.

There's a moment of compassion in your heart, but you then remember that you did trust him once and it has now brought you to this unfortunate situation.

"I don't want to hear anymore lies, Armin. If that's even your real name."

"It is. I promise you it is." He is now calling for your eyes with his own. They're wide and desperate. "Please hear me out, y/n. I won't lie to you."

"How do I know that this isn't a lie? You came into my life and I believed every word you said to me like an idiot," you feel the tears welling up. It's not because you're sad or anything. It's because you're angry. You hate that you cry when you're frustrated because your argument feels pointless if you can't appear strong. "I waited for you to come back, Armin. I really did. But I have now completely let go of you. You are nothing to me. Nothing more than a stranger."

Armin listens to every word that slips from your tight mouth. "I understand. I'm not going to ask for forgiveness or try to defend myself because you are right." You stare into his eyes as he adverts his gaze back to the ground. "But I want you to know I didn't destroy your neighborhood. It's untouched."

"Oh thank you so much, Armin. You're a true savior," you spit with sarcasm lacing your tone.

You can't ignore the relief you feel though. There's a slight possibility you feel grateful from his attempt at keeping you in his good graces. Even if it's two sides of a war sickened coin. Your parents and neighborhood might have been spared, but there were hundreds others killed. Those people could've been customers at your cafe. People you bought ingredients from. The entire city square was turned into rubble. You found that place special because you took Armin there, but now it's only a haunting memory.