I don't normally write in 1st person/present tense, but I feel like it's fitting for the tone of this fic.
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It's midnight, I'm out past my curfew, and I'm running away from criminals with my best friend and maybe-crush in my arms.
Normally I would have fought the criminals that had cornered Armin. I would have beat those assholes into the ground. But Armin's hurt, and I wasn't thinking fast enough to stay behind and deal with them, so I'm running.
Said best friend is currently holding onto me for dear life while I carry him like a newlywed bride. If I lose my footing, I'll fall over with no chance of using my arms to keep us balanced, and Armin's leg will probably become even more broken than it already is.
"I - I think they had a car," Armin mumbles. He's still in shock, breathing raggedly and gripping my pleather shirt like a lifeline.
"They won't catch up," I respond. I'm mainly convincing myself of that. "Your house is nearby. I mean, your house is nearby, isn't it?"
I feel like I should mention Armin doesn't know about my double life as a superhero.
It's for safety reasons, yeah, because what if Armin let slip my identity and some villain found out and hurt hurt my family? And I get that. But it sucks ass that I have to keep this whole superhero thing from my best friend.
"Yeah," Armin responds. "But - my ankle. It's, uh-"
"Shh," I say. I don't want him to start panicking again. "I know first aid."
"You can... you have healing powers right?" Armin asks.
"Self healing," I respond.
"Oh."
He's silent for the next few minutes. I keep running, taking different turns to throw off those sickos who'd tried to hurt Armin.
"Down that street," Armin says shakily, pointing to his street.
"Yeah," I say. I move my arm to give him more support. He holds onto me closer.
I turn down that street, seeing Armin's house. I try and pretend I don't recognise it.
"That's my house there," Armin says. I nod and stop out in front of his house.
"Front door, or..."
"Hell no," Armin tells me. "I don't want to wake up my grandpa. He'll worry, and I'll have to explain everything. My bedroom window is unlocked."
I know which window belongs to Armin's room. It's down the driveway and on the side of the house. I carry him down until I find his window.
"I can't open it with you-"
I'm cut off, because Armin is opening the window himself. He lifts it up with some difficulty, but it's up, and I can lower him into his room. He grabs onto the frame, and waits for me to climb in.
Armin's room is messier than the last time I was here. Every surface is covered; Armin's walls have pinboards and posters and old sticky notes, his desk is covered in textbooks, and his bed has more pillows and cushions than anyone could possibly need.
"Sorry about the mess," he says, sitting on the bed, wincing as he puts pressure on his ankle. I rush to his side immediately, but he brushes me aside. Still, I sit down next to him and start untying his shoe.
He pulls his leg back, gasping as my hand brushes his ankle. I look up, and he shoots me an apologetic look.
"I've gotta get it off," I say, and Armin closes his eyes and clings onto the side of his bed. I don't mess around, deciding to pull it off quickly.
