;i take caffeine in my bloodstream. my life has become a boring pop song
i grip the wheel and all at once i realize:
& everyone's singing along.
This year is predicated to be the hottest summer to date, and Armin isn't surprised one bit. Stepping outside, the humidity engulfs him thoroughly. It only takes minutes for his hair to cling to the back of his neck. His car is parked in the driveway, a solar-paneled, top-of-the-line Ford that impresses his friends, but irritates himself. How far his grandfather would go to stay green is beyond Armin. It takes him too long to get to his car, beads of sweat build up on the back of his neck and the cup of coffee in his hand looks like the most unappetizing drink in the world. He jerks the door open, throws his bag into the passenger seat, and then climbs in. When he starts the car, he cranks the air conditioner on and leans back to revel in it. The time flashes on his dashboard, he's going to be late… again.
If he had any other grandfather, he thinks he wouldn't be so luckily coveted by his boss. Armin had a tendency to arrive late, also he didn't match the dynamics of the rest of the team of lifeguards. Jean, his best friend, or the closest he'll get to having a best friend, is undeniably attractive with a firm-set jaw which should be wired shut to stop the impressive number of slurs that it can produce. Christa is the epitome of perfection with her sparkling personality and blue eyes, even if it is all just a ploy (Armin knows Christa, but she puts on a good act for everyone who doesn't). Reiner who happens to be a bodybuilder with a personable attitude towards life, but an affinity for skipping work. The rest of the team included Petra, a lovely girl with an inquisitive mind, Mina, admittedly Armin's favorite to work alongside because of her supportive personality, and Marlowe, a haughty boy who despised the overbearing heat. This impossible group of youths is where most of his time is invested. During high school, Armin had been easily overlooked, but here everyone includes him happily.
Pulling into the parking lot behind the facility, Armin notices missing cars: Mina and Reiner. Typical Reiner, he huffs, turning off the car and leaning back. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel; his expression is unreadable as he preps himself for another grueling day of sitting in a chair, waiting for someone to drown. Armin focuses on a spot out in the distance, the sun glaring down and making it hard to see.
Mina scares the absolute shit out of him when she taps her fingers against his window. When he jumps in his seat, his head bumps the top of the car. "Shit." He cusses as he opens the car door. "Morning, asshole," he says grumpily, quickly tying his hair up into a messy bun before retrieving his bag.
"Morning!" She sing-songs, but doesn't touch him as she normally would. The heat presses down on them thickly, making it difficult to swallow. Armin feels like he's ran five miles instead of driven them. "Reiner called in sick, so I took over for him." There's something in her tone that affirms Armin's suspicion that Reiner's skipping once again.
Unlocking the padlock of the fence that holds their private swimming facility, Armin grunts in irritation in response to Mina. The fence doesn't block out the view of the swimming pool, but he supposes that it keeps the proper people out (besides Sasha Braus, who he's dealt with on occasion for climbing over the fence and swimming after-hours). Mina locks the fence up behind them.
Clocking into work is tiresome, because Jean likes to openly drool over Marco, who is in charge of signing everyone in: workers and swimmers alike. "Hey," Jean waves to Armin and Mina before returning to a discussion with Marco about a video game night. Lifting a hand up, Armin tucks a piece of hair behind his ear.
"Let Marco know we are here," Mina clucks her tongue before heading over to the showers to change; Armin departs as well, heading off to deposit his bag behind the counter and then to grab bottled water from the fridge. Marco leans back enough so Armin could count nearly all the freckles smattering the back of his neck. Shaking away those strange thoughts, Armin grabs another water bottle to toss to Jean. The throw is messy, and Jean just manages to catch it with an embarrassing grunt.
Before heading towards his chair, Armin tugs his shirt off and throws it atop his bag. "Opening in ten!" Petra calls from the water where she's doggy-paddling towards the edge to look up at Armin. "Hey, Armin!" She says fleetingly as she dives backwards, kicking up water towards Armin with the momentum. Effectively, she's gotten him wet already. If it weren't so hot out, he'd complain.
Time ticks on and the lifeguards all climb into their chairs. Armin adjusts his umbrella; he watches over the deep end. He's only had to jump in once: there had been a little girl about the age of three and she had slipped in. The reaction was immediate: never had Armin reacted so readily to something. The little girl had only been underwater for a matter of seconds and he had pulled her out and watched her sputter chlorinated water through her nose, then promptly begin to cry. Sadly it had been Armin's first day on the job (and admittedly, he had wanted it to be his last). His eyes flit across the length of the pool.
Petra's climbing out, shaking her hair like a wet dog before climbing into her own chair; she's usually found where the younger kids swim which is unsurprising because she's got such a playful nurturing personality. Mina works the next length of the pool, while Jean perches himself atop the highest chair with a smug look on his face. Armin watches Marlowe as he heads over to the room where Marco resides. There is pity for Christa though, who is teaching classes today in the smaller pool. Reiner must've been assigned there as well, but now she seemed to be dealing with it by herself; she had it in her.
Each of the lifeguards prepare themselves in different ways. Armin slips his whistle over his head and chugs nearly half of the contents of his water bottle. Looking towards the huge wall-clock, the second hand ticks down for the opening of the pool. He readies his whistle in between his lips and at eight in the morning, the whistles sound to declare the pool open.
A membership is needed to be able to access the pool daily, but there are one-day passes for some of the less frequent visitors. The prices are racked up so high that Armin isn't surprised that most of the swimmers are those with memberships; he sees these people just as regularly as he sees his fellow lifeguards. His favorite visitor is named Hanji; ze are training to be an Olympic swimmer, but hir excitable chattering pulls everyone in. More often than not, Armin finds himself in conversation with Hanji rather than doing his job.
Switch comes every hour, and every lifeguard either exchanges with another lifeguard or goes onto break. Petra and Mina are usually the only ones who switch seats while Jean and Armin exchange seats with Marlowe and Christa. Christa climbs up one side while Armin climbs down the other and they exchange an odd set of expressions. "No Hanji?" Christa pouts, visibly upset about this.
"Nope," Armin frowns, planting his feet onto the ground. "Maybe ze're just late."
In response, Christa mutters, "Maybe."
Jean looks like a puppy dog about to wet himself when Armin meets up with him. Wordlessly, Armin raises an eyebrow in question. "I may or may not have finally got my friend to come over and bring his smoking hot adoptive sister." Jean says as explanation. "I'm going to go bother Marco to see if they are here yet." Armin snorts, patting Jean on the back before heading to the showers.
Naturally everyone seems to avoid the showers, even though the sign above the entrance of the pool lists rules. One of these unfollowed rules is to shower before swimming, and that's what Armin does. He lets the water run over his body, pooling around his feet before he heads back outside. Promptly, he dives in the deep end, which makes Christa squeal in delight; the deep end gets the least amount of attention, especially if Hanji isn't swimming around. Floating on his back, Armin enjoys the coolness of the water on this hot day, while the other lifeguards slave in the heat. "Did you put sunscreen on?" Christa calls from upon her chair; she's slathering the lotion onto her skin and rubbing it in. Both of the blondes are prone to sunburns, while every other lifeguard has the ability to just get incredibly tan.
Without disturbing his position, Armin lifts a thumbs up into the air for her. After he's sure she's seen it, he drops his arm slowly, then turns to dive beneath the surface of the water. When he resurfaces, he notices that Jean is still perched beside Marco; Marco's a great worker, but easily distracted. Also, easily distracting. Armin doesn't have a crush on Marco, but he definitely is aware of how attractive Marco is. Armin did, once upon a time, have a crush on Jean, but those feelings had just disappeared one day. It had been awhile since Armin thought about dating someone; the last time had been Mina, who might have confessed to being a lesbian, but Armin is still confused about that whole night.
Armin shakes his head, droplets of water flying all around him, then continues swimming.
The next Switch comes around and Armin flies back into his seat, while Christa goes to relieve Marlowe of his seat. Jean's no longer sitting next to Marco, but instead chatting with a black-haired girl who knocks the breathe out of Armin. He forgets to blow his whistle to signal the Switch, but luckily all the others are on top of the job. The girl blinks blankly at Jean until another boy emerges from the showers, then her expression changes for a split second: happiness flashes on her face. She's gorgeous, Armin chews on his lip, blowing his whistle half-heartedly at a little boy who is playing in the deep end without supervision. He watches as the toddler climbs out of the pool, giving Armin a dirty look before rushing towards the lounge area.
"Armin," Jean calls out; Armin curses beneath his breath, leaning over the other side of his chair to look down at the three grouped there. "I want you to meet my friends."
Lifting an eyebrow, Armin waits for the introductions from Jean, but they never come. The girl reveals herself as Mikasa and offers a gentle almost-smile that Armin returns. The boy's name is Eren, and Armin only knows because he's pushed Jean ("Fuck you, Eren.") into the water. Promptly, without thinking, Armin blows his whistle.
Eren and Mikasa look up at him, then Jean breaks out into guffaws. "Armin, I have never seen someone take their job any more seriously than you." He shakes his head, turning to look at Eren. "Wanna race, big boy? Since you think you are such a hotshot."
There's a look exchanged between the siblings, but Armin and Jean aren't privy to it. Mikasa looks like she wants to say something, but Eren turns away from her, nodding to Jean. "Hell yeah, Jean. I'll kick your ass." Eren pulls off his shirt while Jean climbs out of the water. Both of them head towards the diving boards.
At his side, Armin swears he hears Mikasa say something about Eren not knowing how to swim, but when he looks over, she's walking around away from the scene, towards the lounge area. "Uh," Armin says to himself. Jean's counting down to the moment when they will race across from the deep end to the five foot end. Panic rises in Armin's chest. Why would someone agree to a race if they couldn't swim? The logic is nonsense, but Armin's readying himself anyway; the balls of his feet rest on the edge of his ladder as Jean yells zero and they both dive into the water: headfirst.
Jean comes up into a freestyle swim across the length of the pool; he doesn't even look over to see where Eren is in relation to him. Armin's heartbeat slows immensely when he realizes that Eren isn't coming up for air. Counting silently, he watches and waits, but nothing happens.
Then he notices bubbles. Thirty seconds have passed, and Armin isn't risking waiting any longer. Maybe he'll look like an idiot if Eren is fine, but there's a red flag: something about this doesn't seem right. Hitching a breath into his lungs, Armin dives from his chair to the immediate left of where the bubbles appear.
The splash that Armin creates pulls the attention of the other lifeguards, even Jean stops to look over his shoulder in confusion. Armin has one goal in mind, and that is rescuing Eren; he glides through the water easily. In his haste, Armin grabbles for a limb, locates an arm, and then he is scooping an arm around Eren's chest as he swims up towards the surface. With force, he throws Eren out of the water to a hesitant Mina, who pulls him up gently as Armin climbs out.
"Is he breathing?" Armin sputters. Pulling in air is a challenge between the water in his lungs and the panic settling in his stomach. Jean and Mikasa are running towards Eren's collapsed body, but Mina stops them both with outstretched hands.
Without Mina's answer, Armin fumbles to feel a pulse. He finds it: steady and reassuring, but he's not breathing, or if he is then it is so subtle that in his panic, Armin can't feel puffs of breath on the back of his hand or see the rise and fall of his chest. Readying his hands for chest compressions, Armin notices how badly he is shaking; Jean pushes Mina to the side which makes Armin angry, but he pushes all that to the back of his mind.
Eren coughs, curling his body up to the side and expelling water from his lungs. A sigh of relief escapes Armin, who rests of the back on his legs as he watches the coughs rack through Eren's body. "Get him a blanket or a towel," Armin instructs Jean. His voice is strangely level and Jean doesn't question him, but simply obeys him.
Slowly, the boy's eyes flutter open, then shut, and then gently open again. Emerald green eyes glance up towards their savor. And Armin thought Mikasa was beautiful. Pulling in a sharp breath, Armin feels his own chest constrict and he chokes on seemingly nothing. Eren's voice is rough, a deep growl, when he speaks. "Thank y-you," he says simply.
"You're an idiot," Mikasa hisses.
Jean brings the blanket over and Armin drapes it across Eren as he helps him off the ground. "I'm taking him to the medical deck to make sure he's going to be okay," he says by way of departure; Jean looks absolutely wrecked as he repeats his mantra of I didn't know he couldn't swim. Petra looks up from the scant amount of children when Armin passes by her.
The smile that lights up her face is infectious. "You are really something, Armin. I'm glad you got to him." Armin returns the smile to her before holding the door open for Eren, who is shivering despite the heat. Marco looks away from the paperwork in front of him to stare open-mouthed at Eren.
"Lucky we have someone like you on our team. No one else would have thought someone our age could've nearly drowned." He says to Armin, clapping him on the back. All the gratitude he's showered with seems unnecessary, but he accepts it as he pulls two water bottles out of the fridge, handing one to Eren.
Those green eyes watch Armin closely with a hesitant type of interest that brings a blush to Armin's cheeks: he'll put that down to a sunburn though if it is brought up. Eren isn't pale like Armin, nor does he have light hair; his contrast from Armin is almost complementary. For some reason, he wants to run his fingers through his brown hair, tousling the slight curls. "H-How're you feeling?" He asks when he notices he's been openly staring at Eren. Marco snorts.
He thinks he catches a nod, then Eren is wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. Armin busies himself with finding a towel to dry off with as the panic ebbs and flows. Images spring to the forefront of his mind; Eren's blue lips not catching any air. Shit, no no no. Marco and Eren both catch the whimper that falls from Armin, but only Marco knows how to handle it. "You can have the rest of today off, Armin."
His past is no secret to the rest of his coworkers, but Eren doesn't know how to respond other than to bury his face into the blanket. Abruptly, he begins to cry. Marco blinks at Eren before looking towards Armin. "I'll take over here. You can have lifeguard duty." Slipping his whistle off his neck, Armin passes it over to Marco on his way towards the sign-in desk. The window is closed thankfully, but the fan that is sitting in the corner is only making Armin and Eren shiver more violently. "Eren," he whispers quietly when they are alone.
Eren looks up at Armin from over the edge of the blanket. The little noise he makes is pitiful, but Armin's nerves are steeled at this point. "There's no need to cry. There's not a chance that I would let anyone in that pool drown. I'm going to turn this fan off and we are going to get you into the shower. You've got a change of clothes, right?" Everything about Armin is calm. He flips the pool sign to Closed while he grabs his bag and walks with Eren into the shower.
Each stall is small, but the handicap one surely will fit two people, so that's where Armin heads as he takes the blanket away from Eren, then starts toying with the shower until it expels warm water. "I'm so lame. I can't even swim." He finally says underneath the spout. Armin pushes him forward, climbing in behind him so the water runs over both of them. He snorts in response to Eren.
The taller boy looks at him incredulously, but the water runs into his eyes and they both dissolve into giggles as he paws his hair away with irritation. "I couldn't swim for a while too," Armin supplies as he runs his fingers through his own hair. The chlorine smell clings to him; he'd like to lie and say he's used to it, but it has permeated through everything in his life and he wants to rid himself of it. "Maybe you should take classes?"
It is Eren's turn to snort. "Have you seen the prices for swimming classes?"
"Get a membership?" Armin shrugs, turning away when Eren strips himself of his swimming trunks. "I could teach you. I'm licensed." He steps out of his own trunks and then out of the stall while Eren finishes washing himself off.
The stall separates them as Armin dresses quickly, then reapplies sunscreen; he hands Eren a towel when the stall is pushed open again. Not wanting to wear the label of pervert, Armin moves to the mirror where he combs his fingers through his hair before deciding on throwing it back up into a bun. "Yeah," Eren finally says.
He's been thinking about the offer. Armin's slightly surprised at the thought that had gone into the decision. "I'll just beg for the money from my dad," Eren shrugs. Drying himself off, then dressing himself. Dad, Armin thinks bluntly. It isn't until he tastes something metallic on his tongue that he realizes that he's got a mouth full of blood.
All Armin has to offer Eren is a nod in confirmation. "Well, yeah, just let me know when you want to get started. Erwin, my boss, won't be upset if I tell him I've been booked for classes. I'll just need to let him know what days and what times." The process is quite simple, especially with Erwin being so laid back about the duties of his lifeguards. Once they are both finished dressing, Eren thanks him again before heading over towards Mikasa.
Armin returns to his duties at the counter, reclaiming Marco's job.
"Wanna go for a drink, Armin?" Petra asks when she's signing out, but Armin just shakes his head. He's had enough for one day; sleep is the only thing on his agenda, well that and a quick dinner. Petra looks upset by his refusal, but she doesn't press and heads off with Marco, Jean, and Mina which means she's going to take them to her house to drink instead of the hitting the bar.
Christa signs out next, smiling at Armin. There is hesitancy in her gaze, usually she's not the last one to sign out. Instead, her girlfriend is usually waiting for her, but her gaze seems to be clouded. "Hey, do you need a ride home?" Armin asks her gently, turning the paper towards him so he can sign and date the corner of it, tacking it up to the board. He turns the sign to Closed. Christa waits for him, which he takes as her accepting his offer.
Both of them climb into Armin's energy-efficient, embarrassing car that he hates to love. Armin throws his stuff into the backseat, while Christa settles her bag next to her feet on the floorboard. "Ymir and I are fighting," she says simply.
Pursing his lips, Armin focuses on pulling out of the parking lot, but he makes a sad noise that hopefully communicates that he doesn't like what he is hearing.
Ymir (admittedly not Armin's favorite person in the world) seems to be quiet about her life, but with Christa, she acts like someone else entirely. They had dated through high school, but quietly because same-sex couples just didn't seem to go over well with administration. Now that they were open about their relationship, Christa seemed quite stressed. No one knows why she seems stressed, especially with her occupation supporting her sexuality. Erwin himself identified as pansexual, but something seemed to be crawling beneath the surface of Christa's skin.
"She says I'm a bitch nowadays." She sounds tired, Armin thinks. "I-…" Words fail her, and Armin makes sure not to pressure her to say more than she'd like to; none of it is truly his business anyway. "She proposed the other day, but I still haven't given her an answer because I don't know what to say."
Oh, Armin's brain supplies, but that isn't an appropriate response. Never has Armin been the greatest person to talk to about personal matters; he had been the person who would help you with homework free of change, but he seemed to fall on his face when discussing anything personal. "Don't you want to marry her?" He prompts.
Apparently, that is a safe question, but she struggles with it nonetheless. "Yes, I do, but I'm.. I haven't told my family about Ymir." That catches Armin off-guard; he had known that they were secretive, but could never imagine that throughout the five years of their relationship, it hadn't been brought up to Christa's family once. Even Armin had discussed with his grandfather the possibility of having a boyfriend in the future because he didn't just like girls.
Silence engulfs them; Armin is awkward and fumbles with a response because he's too shocked at the secrecy behind their relationship. "I'm going through McDonald's, do you want anything?" The topic changes subtly as he turns into the lane that allows him to pull into the drive-thru. As her eyes look over the menu, Armin speaks gently. "I know it is a touchy subject, but I have faith that you'll be able to figure things out. If you need someone to be there if you decide to tell your family, then I will be here for you. I've gone through the process with grandpa."
"May I take your order?" drowns out Christa's thank you.
The voice over the speaker is definitely familiar, and a smile appears of both of their faces as they place their orders: Christa just wants an iced coffee, while Armin orders a large fry and an iced coffee. When they pull up to the window to hand the cashier the money, Sasha's smiling face is there. "Hey, guys!" She grins, accepting the money and passing back change. "I'm digging the hair cut, Christa." In the passenger seat, Christa gives Sasha a polite smile; the blonde is full of small mistakes that she spends too much time regretting. For example: her hair; the undercut isn't subtle, but instead most of her hair lays on the right side of her head. The haircut had been an impulsive move, but Armin agreed that it suited her. Apparently her parents thought it made her look less of a privileged heiress and more of a feminist activist.
Sasha retrieves their order as well, passing it to Armin, who gives the two coffees to her, but keeps the bag of fries on his lap. They say their goodbyes and then Armin is headed towards Christa's mansion of a house. "No, take me to Ymir's." She says between gulps of her coffee. The eyebrow Armin lifts asks her for confirmation that this is really what she wants, and she nods. Gulping down his coffee, Armin promptly pulls a U-turn and heads off towards Ymir's studio apartment.
The drive is silent, with Armin pilling fries into his mouth and Christa playing with the straw of her coffee. When they pull into the driveway, Ymir is standing there with a cigarette hanging from her mouth. "Oh, look at the pair o' blondes," she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Christa grabs her bag, then her coffee before she turns to smack a kiss to Armin's cheek.
"Thanks for the ride, Armin. Drive safe." She says quickly, stepping out of the car and into Ymir's arms.
Looking away, Armin pulls out of the driveway and promptly heads home.
His grandfather goes to bed at seven every night which complicates Armin's plans usually. No loud music or turning the volume up on the television because he lives in the house of the lightest sleepers: himself included.
Instead of watching television or reading the newspaper which is Armin's usual routine, he heads up the stairs to his bedroom as his mind recounts the events of the day; Eren's near-drowning experience had dragged up messy parts of his past that he actively buries under other burdens. Anyone in his graduating class definitely knows about his past, and it shapes their views of him: morphs him into a pity party.
Quietly, he closes the door of his room before throwing himself down on the bed. He plugs his phone into the charger resting next to his head and curls up. The house is cold, but he doesn't even move to grab the blanket that has been pushed down to the foot of the bed. He feels exhausted, still feels the ghost of the water as he wrapped his arm around Eren. Shouldn't I feel good about myself since I saved someone? Those green eyes, such a vivid shade, flash into his mind's eye before he shakes those thoughts away; sleep.
Why the hell his grandfather feels the need to play AC/DC at top volume at – holy shit, it is – six in the morning, is beyond Armin (who groggily climbs out of bed and heads straight to the bathroom). Naturally, he's a morning riser, but he usually lets his body wake him up instead of his grandfather blasting Highway to Hell. Without questioning it, Armin climbs into the shower to wash off all the sunscreen and sweat from the previous day.
When he heads downstairs, his grandfather is dancing around the kitchen while cooking breakfast; he wears grandmother's old apron adorned with swooping handwriting Kiss the cook! All the irritation washes away from Armin, replaced with a beaming happiness as he watches his family member as he turns to his grandson and ruffles his damp hair. "Morning, Armin." He says, "Breakfast will be done 'n about five minutes."
"I'll be ready in two," Armin chirps as he heads straight for the laundry room; he's only got two pairs of swimming trunks, so he'll have to do a load of laundry later, and by the appearance of the pile of clothes, he's chosen a needed time. After sliding on his trunks, he packs away his change of clothes before going back into the kitchen to spray sunscreen onto himself while he is still mostly undressed. Finally, he tosses on a ratty t-shirt that probably used to have an image on it. The scent of the food reaches him, which alerts him to the grumble of his stomach. "Smells good," he says, climbing atop the stool nearest to his grandfather.
They eat in a comfortable silence before Armin leaves for work, pressing a kiss against his grandfather's cheek and tying his hair up in another makeshift bun. His appearance is the least of his worries, especially when he might actually get to work on time for a change. His phone vibrates just as he kicks his car into reverse; he brakes the car to peer at his messages: Beam me up, Scotty. Mina's way of telling him that she needs a ride to work.
Luckily, she lives just around the block, so it takes almost no time to let her know that he's on his way; when he arrives, she climbs into the passenger seat, beaming at him. "Good morning, asshole~" She chimes cheerfully, parroting Armin's usual bad mood.
He snorts, rolling his eyes. "This asshole is giving you a ride to work," he replies, turning onto the road for the short drive to their workplace. Silence envelopes them, even though Mina is quite talkative. He thinks it all boils down to her probably suffering from a mild hangover from last night.
When they pull in, Armin notices that everyone seems to be accounted for today. Reiner included, who is sitting in his car, chatting with a blonde with her hair tied up. "Hey, Reiner," he waves in greeting; Reiner waves back, but Mina stops, looking at the pair of them with her jaw hanging open. "Mina," Armin hisses in her ear, pulling her along.
"She's pretty," she breathes; Marco, perched on his chair faithfully, gives her an odd look with a goofy smile before handing her a pen to sign in, which she passes to Armin.
The look he exchanges with Marco is amused as he watches Mina walk away. "Reiner's got some girl with him, and Mina's jaw dropped." Marco laughs wholeheartedly, head tilting back slightly. Armin feels his jaw almost drop because Marco just laughs and it is so beautiful. However Armin had been placed onto a team with incredibly attractive lifeguards is something he thinks he should investigate, because he feels inadequate with the rest of these people strutting around the pool.
"You mean how you were yesterday?" The heat floods into Armin's cheeks as he looks away from Marco before signing his name sloppily. His question goes without answer as Armin goes to climb into his chair while watching the clock. Ridding himself of his shirt, he throws it beneath him before grabbing his whistle to slip around his neck, then placing it between his lips.
He waits.
Time passes, and the other lifeguards climb into their seats and their whistles all sound at the top of the hour. Marco flips the sign to Open and begins to greet the awaiting swimmers. Today goes differently, dramatically so when Hanji saunters straight to the diving board; ze place a hand on hir forehead to block the sun as ze call to Armin. "Heard you saved a life."
Armin nods, watching as Hanji dives with perfect form. Seconds later, ze emerge across from Armin. "Missed you yesterday," he decides upon saying. Ze release a string of laughter that he wants to fold around him; Hanji's always been the type of person that Armin's wanted to be. So honest with hirself, plus Armin's been in several conversations with Hanji and ze always flaunt their intelligence. Possibly, Armin could be in love, except for some reason, he's not. Hanji is just that comforting presence that he needs sometimes.
After Hanji composes hirself, Armin watches hir smile, lighting up hir whole face. "Missed you too!" Ze replies, "I had a meeting at work; I've recently picked up an office job, which I hate, but I need to make money somehow. I have been itching to get back into the laboratory, but I'm still banned from that facility." Don't ask about it, Armin, he bites down on his tongue. Ze laughs, bringing him back to hir conversation. "Anyways, I'm going to take a lap around the pool!" Off ze go before Armin can even open his mouth.
Sighing, he takes this a moment to relax, but when he hears his name pronounced from an unfamiliar voice that seems familiar, he stiffens. "Eren," he says weakly, watching as the boy jogs over to where Armin is perched atop his chair. Immediately, Armin blows his whistle, which causes Eren to stop in place. Everyone looks around to make sure they aren't the ones acting out, but Armin is looking straight at Eren who starts to jog again.
Again, he blows his whistle. Eren looks irritated, he thinks, as he slows to a walk.
For some strange reason, this exchange amuses Armin. He watches as Eren begins climbing up the side of the chair. "No, you can't do that." He exclaims, but Eren doesn't stop until he is eye level with Armin.
"Tuesdays through Saturdays, any time after noon and before closing time." He says, then: "hello."
"Hi," Armin replies, blinking stupidly before realization washes over him: swimming lessons. "Noted; now get off my chair." Eren's adding unnecessary weight that makes Armin feel unsafe even if the chair is pretty sturdy.
Eren just blinks, confused as to why he's being told to get off the chair. "Have you seen Mikasa because she left the house before me, but I haven't seen her?" He asks, tilting his head; there's a crease in his forehead from his concentration on Armin. Easily, Armin could reach out and soothe Eren, but he just chews on the inside of his cheek. Scanning the water, he finds Hanji (still swimming, dammit) and a couple other regulars scattered throughout the pool; his eyes come back to rest on Eren, who is still hanging on the side of his chair.
The blond watches him; Eren's eyes travel across the pool too, but there's no sign of Mikasa. "I'm.. going to have to give you time out because this is the third time you've disobeyed a rule," Armin says: quietly and anxiously. Instantly, Eren's eyes are refocusing on Armin. "Ten minutes by my chair, which means get off the chair."
The incredulous look on Eren's face is amusing, and the corner of Armin's mouth lifts up as he hears him muttering to himself as he climbs down off the chair. Promptly, his ass hits the cement ground next to Armin's chair.
If Eren's this stubborn, teaching him to swim may be more difficult than Armin originally thought. Glancing down at Eren, Armin makes a devastated face. I'm in for the long haul with this one.
"Time out also means get your feet out of the water—"
A huff that draws a quiet laugh from Armin. "Fine. I will sit here and just look pretty."
