Disclaimer: I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin.
A Chance Meeting
It's the year 842 and your feet are taking you nowhere in particular. You had just ended a scuffle with the neighbourhood big kids, your lips chapped and bleeding, tender bruises forming on your cheek and shins. A pout makes its way onto your face and you shove your scuffed hands deep into your pockets.
You don't understand it. Your mother always coddles you and your scrapes, lecturing your horrible methods of makings friends, but you feel like you can't change; it's how you are.
You kick at a rock, not wanting to go home just yet, so you take a detour to the waterway, the river tinted orange in the sunset.
You hop down the steps to the bank, making a game out of not stepping on the cracks, only to find someone is in your favourite shaded spot. They're not threatening though, merely nose-deep in a blue-covered book, blonde hair hiding their face from your view. They look to be your age – seven and innocent.
You huff. The waterway belongs to no one, so you can't blame them for being there. You decide to make the most of it, opting to take your mother's advice for once; going up to the person of interest gently instead of with clenched fists.
The blonde takes no notice as you plop yourself down by their side, their attention stolen by the parchment pages and fading text. You stay quiet for a while, fiddling with the fallen autumn leaves by your crossed feet. You steal a few glances at the blonde every so often, still trying to figure out whether they're a boy or girl. The hair doesn't help with its length ending just below their chin; it could go either way. Regardless, you find them to be kind of pretty in your green eyes. The sun is sinking behind the wall, and you choose to speak up.
"What are you reading?"
The blonde jolts their head up with a gasp and whirls around to you, bright blue eyes wide with surprise. You return it with a look of confusion, raising a brow.
"O-oh, um… It's a fairytale…"
"What about?"
You notice a small smile creep up on the blonde's lips. As the blonde gives you a summary of the story (of a princess saved by her prince charming – nothing you haven't already heard from your mother's bedtime tales), you listen to their voice, clear as a cloudless sky, enunciating each big word and steady sentences. It calms your frayed nerves from your earlier fight.
As they flip another page to reveal an illustration of the prince and princess, you point at the fair maiden, "She looks kinda like you."
"… But, I'm not a girl."
"I knew it!"
The blonde (boy, now you know) laughs freely at your exclamation as you throw your arms up in victory. You've gotten your answer to the first question. Now, you want to know so much more.
"Well, you kinda look like the prince."
"What?" You crinkle your nose in distaste, "No way! I'm way cooler!"
Time flies. By the time the two of you close the book and wipe the tears of laughter from your eyes, the sun has fully set and stars begin sprinkle the sky. You want to stay with the boy longer, but you know your mother would have a fit if you aren't back soon. You kick your legs awake, standing to brush the dust off your bottom, and holding a hand out to your new-found companion. Friend? Is he a friend to you now?
"I have to get going home. Mama will be worried."
"Same here. Um," You're usually not one to stutter or hesitate, but you find yourself staring at your feet. You purse your lips, still raw and chapped, and look back up to him, "I'm Eren. Can we meet again?"
The blonde blinks his cerulean eyes, and you can see them sparkle with happiness. A friend. You've finally made one. Your very first friend.
"I'm Armin. Of course, we can."
A quick thing I wrote back on Eremin Day (Sept 21 aka my birthday haha), based on a certain picture of my darling babies by scribble-notes on tumblr.