"𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘢𝘮?"
❛... A certain time we dwell upon as our bodies swirl as one, hearts bind and sever our purity of the outside world. our bodies misty, the air rough and blissfully clammy, yet neither of us...
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4.2k words: a summary of this chapter: armin asks the reader to accompany him, to visit an old relative that happens to be in town. at eight months pregnant, will your hormones be able to pull through for the entirety of armin's happiness? but what about your own? is there happiness to be sought here?
A synopsis of acts: time skip, therapy, crying, fluff, subtle angst, traces of peace, cuddling, subtle aggression, discussing a car crash + potential more. vote! + mind errors.
Bliss, that was what you yearned to feel. That was what you merely yearned to be tainted by, but never once were you able to attain the taunting feeling. It would only ever freely inject you within moments you spent solely with Elara, also with Armin. Armin had allowed himself to shape himself into a better, transparent boyfriend. Though he wasn't perfect, he was now much more open towards you, asking for your input on a lot of situations.
Currently, you rested in your bed, an online therapy session occurring. A part of you didn't yearn to participate on this particular day, yet Armin somewhat encouraged you to do so. He knew you were struggling at eight months pregnant, unwilling to yearn to engage with anything, constantly reduced to tears, constantly sleeping, unable to glance at your body. Even with therapy, he knew you were set to slowly soothe the other aspects.
"So, tell me how you feel during the time you spent hidden from others?" Your therapist, Linda, asks, her tone soft. She delightfully smiles at you, leaving you glancing down at your crinkled, white sheets.
"I felt so lost, unable to focus on anything but him," She glances at the sudden distress within your features, littered with undertones of melancholiness. There were so many indecipherable layers to you; she was unable to truly pinpoint where to begin. But what she did collect from the situation was, you were someone who had been smothered with forceful tragedy.
"What did that lost feel like?" Her tone's soft as she observes you smoothing your stomach with your fingers. Nervousness was apparent within you, yet you were firmly struggling to display that nervousness, frantically burying your fingers within the tainted sheets.
