armin has never been more oblivious to anything else in his life. for such a smart person, he can't see what's right in front of his face, but there's always been one constant in his life. you. what happens when things around him start to change and...
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"So are you gonna call her or what?" Jean asked eagerly from the large red bean bag he was sprawled upon.
"I don't know! She gave me her number on Wednesday and it's Sunday. She must think i've forgotten about her," you complained, throwing yourself back down onto the black bean bag beneath you.
You and Jean were hanging out in his unfinished basement like you normally would on a boring weekend such as this one.
His house became sort of a go to hangout spot for the both of you because his mom was usually at work while your whole family was home.
She worked as a nurse at ParaCare, the same hospital Eren's dad worked at, except nurses made much less than the doctors in Paradis. Especially well known doctors like Mr. Jaeger. It was the reason Jean resented Eren so much when they first met. That started early in freshman year and wore off over time but it made it an awkward year for everybody.
Jean lived in a neighborhood that was a lot less nice than where Eren and Mikasa lived. It always bugged him how nonchalant Eren acted about his wealth, and if he was being honest, it still occasionally struck a nerve.
You were probably the only person he had ever invited over due to his insecurities about his situation. You've told him countless times that it's nothing to be ashamed of but he waved you off every time, dismissing the idea that something so silly made him upset.
If there was one thing Jean hated, it was looking vulnerable in front of others.
Despite having this flaw, your best friend was one of the most determined people you'd ever known. He had his heart set on practicing law in the future so he could provide more for his mother. You were just glad he was enjoying the subject.
His mother was the nicest woman in the world. You wished you were exaggerating. She was ecstatic when she found out Jean had made a friend so early at a new school where everyone knew each other.
The first time he invited you over during the winter break that year, she gushed about how much he'd said about you, much to Jean's embarrassment.
Through and through, you knew how lucky she was to have Jean as a son.
You began fiddling with some paintbrushes in a jar that sat on the ledge under the coffee table next to many other containers of art supplies.
"I knew you'd come to me with something like this eventually," Jean said, flashing you a grin and adjusting his flannel against his t-shirt.
