CHAPTER ONE

The gentle breeze ruffled through the trees, causing leaves of all colours to wave about lazily, a rustling sound that was soft and comforting. Clutching a single cardboard box, the blond took one glance back at the departing taxi cab, watching as it slowly disappeared down the driveway. Standing alone, Armin began to wonder if this bold move from the city was the best idea, far from the life he had become accustomed to. No busy freeways, or bustling traffic, just the peaceful small town life. And, what was more, he was now closer to his only family, two friends who had stayed so close after the death of his family. They continued to remain close, even after Armin had moved away to study at one of the major universities.

Now he was back, holding a single box of possessions, the most important of things for the first night in his new flat, the rest of his belongings to arrive the following day. Some of the larger furniture, including a comfortable bed, had been set up by Mikasa and Eren. Lifting the box more comfortably into his arms, Armin made his first steps toward the front door. It was the first time he had been there since the flat had become his. The second floor.

The front porch was elegantly decorated with potted plants, the flowers beginning to fade after the summer. With some difficulty, he balanced the box and opened the first door. Yet as he turned the handle, the door was swung open by someone on the other side. Being a solid door, there was no way that either could have seen the other, and it was purely coincidence that they both reached for the handle at the same time, but Armin cursed mentally as he was sent forward, the door moving away from him. With a startled yelp, the box acted as a barrier as he toppled straight into the other person.

Armin's gaze remained on the open box as he took a step back, murmuring apologies. After a moment of awkward silence, blue eyes slowly rose, meeting another set of blue. He was not going to lie, the man was attractive, clearly quite a bit older than himself yet he wore his age exceedingly well. Distinguished, handsome. Those were two words that instantly came to mind, except there were those eyebrows. They were a bit heavy, yet they suited the face just fine. The way the hair was combed to the side said businessman, confirmed by the neat suit he wore. Armin found his mind wondering exactly was underneath those clothes. Going by what he could see, he was very fit, and he could imagine running his hands over that chest… Nope. Not going there again.

Then he realised exactly how underdressed he was by comparison. Loose clothing, comfortable for long drives. A pair of jeans, with a t-shirt emblazoned with one of his many favourite games, this time Assassin's Creed. A grey jacket that seemed far too large for him, at least by two sizes if not more, kept out the cool wind. And then there was the matter of his hair, well beyond needing a haircut, loosely tied back with a rubber band. Next to the neatly styled and dressed man, well… he was a complete mess.

Mind a million miles away, he jumped slightly as the man spoke, in a voice that was surprisingly deep. A soft pink spread across his cheeks in embarrassment, thanking every deity that the thoughts in his mind had not reached him. "You're the new tenant?" he asked, yet Armin found it difficult to respond.

Talk you damn idiot.

"I… ah, yes".

Smooth, real damn smooth. He had never really had the skills for flirting, which was what Eren used to joke was the awkward mating ritual of the nerd. Yet, the man did not seem in the least bit phased by his awkwardness at all, or he pretended not to notice it. A hand was offered, with a name. Erwin?

With some difficulty, he shifted the box so he could shake his hand. "Armin. Arlert". It seemed like their meeting would go a little more smoothly now, or that was until the box began to tilt precariously. Both knew what was happening, and Armin began to desperately grab for the falling box. Thankfully, Erwin came to his rescue, catching it before too many of his trinkets could fall out. Don't look in the box, please don't look in the box, he mentally chanted, yet it seemed the mantra was fruitless.

"A reader?" Erwin asked, curiously looking at the books on top.

"A writer actually". Well, nothing exceptional he had to admit. It was his hope that in moving to the town, he would be able to come up with some novel to be sent to the publisher. But until then, he would content himself with a job at the local coffeeshop. Nothing exceptional, but it was something to pay the rent until another job came along.

"A writer? Do you have any published books?" He seemed so curious, still keeping a hold on the box.

"No, not at the moment. But I'm hoping moving here, I'll get the inspiration to write something".

"Well, I'm sure there will be plenty of inspiration for you here".

The conversation seemed to quieten away to a surprisingly comfortable silence, both still holding the box steady. As much as Armin wished that he could continue talking with him, he knew that Erwin no doubt had work to go to, and he had a flat to prepare for furniture.

"Ah, you should probably get to work?" he said, giving a small smile.

"Yes, yes of course. Do you need some help with that box?" Erwin asked, seemingly equally reluctant to let the conversation die.

"No, thank you. But I appreciate the offer".

Erwin released the box, leaving Armin gripping it tightly. Stepping out of the doorway, he gave a soft smile as Erwin stepped out the door. Yet, rather than continuing down the steps, he continued to stand with the door wide open. For some reason he was hesitating, thinking for a brief moment, before turning back toward Armin.

"If you ever need anything, don't be afraid to ask".

"I wouldn't offer that if I were you, I might be inclined to take you up on that offer", Armin returned, giving a small smile. What the hell did I just say?

Yet Erwin seemed amused, giving a polite wave before continuing down the steps and toward his waiting car, leaving Armin alone in the hallway. With his arms full, Armin was unable to return the farewell, but he supposed he would meet Erwin again soon anyway.

Shaking his head, Armin gave a sigh before making his way to the staircase, continuing up to the second floor. Generally, first meetings had an awkward effect of awkwardness, yet for some reason meeting Erwin had been… strangely comfortable. He seemed like the sort of person he could actually see himself having a long and lasting conversation with, and given they lived in the same flat building that might happen.

As he unlocked the front door to his new place, Armin took a moment to stand in the open door, admiring what was now his home. He had homes before, with Mikasa and Eren, and bunked with other students in the city, but never somewhere that was so completely his. Stepping inside, he enjoyed the silence, setting his box on the empty coffee table. Putting his hands on his waist, Armin had to admit letting Eren and Mikasa pick out the larger, more important, furniture was one of his best decisions. A bed, coffee table, couch. Basics that he needed, the rest he could buy later when he had the money. Both had insisted that they buy everything he needed, yet he had refused. Armin, over the time in the city, had learnt he wanted to be more independent. But, if he needed them, both Mikasa and Eren would always be there.

Removing various things from the box, he began finding them all homes where he could. A neat stack of books on the coffeetable, his laptop set up on the kitchen counter. With all the weight on top of it, Armin could only hope the damn thing still worked. But as the screen came to life, he gave a relieved sigh. Fingers moved quickly on the keyboard, typing password after password. E-mails was always the first go-to place. Crossing his fingers, he could only hope that among them would be one acceptance, one e-mail from a publisher that his work was to be printed. Scrolling down slowly, Armin's heart began to sink. None. Again. A good majority were from friends at the university he had attended, wishing him luck and hoping they could stay in touch via Facebook, or some other electronic means. And there were at least eight from Mikasa and Eren, from their personal e-mails, asking that if he needed any help, no matter what the hour, he could call them.

With a heavy sigh, he began to respond, although a little disheartened not to hear from one of the many publishers he had sent his novel to. He had been quite proud of his work, but apparently it had not caught the eye of anyone else yet. Perhaps, however, he would find some inspiration in moving from the city for a novel that would eventually be printed.

As he responded to an e-mail from Mikasa, he found his mind wondering back to Erwin, and almost without realising he was doing it, he added two questions to the bottom of the e-mail.

"Who is Erwin Smith? Is he single?" he read aloud, once the e-mail was gone. Shit. He had not intended to send that at all.

But it was too late now.