More Than One World

by Magician Irono

More than one wall. Eremin

1. Part 1

Yaoi-loving trash? Yup, that's me! Top!Armin-loving trash? That's me, too! Writer who rips off other people's ideas? DingDingDing! 3 for 3!

Firstly, this fic was inspired by Kiyoshi Kitana's Powder Keg. This could be viewed more or less as the aftermath of such events. I haven't talked to Kiyoshi Kitana about this, so this fic is not necessarily canon to his/her own story. It's more or less fanfiction of her fanfiction (You'd think this was the Fifty Shades Trilogy fanfiction page. . .). You don't need to read Powder Keg before you read this, but go check her's out, anyways- it's short, but hot and nosebleed-inducing all the same. :^'D

Sadly, I don't swing this way, and this is my first (complete) attempt writing yaoi. I'm not sure I have the proper experience to write this accurately. In addition, this chapter references textbooks that I have never read, but found summaries and quotes of. Let me know in the reviews if you can relate or if this is not accurate at all. Please enjoy all the same.

Part 1

Armin couldn't believe it at first. Being the object of that kind of attention? Surely there were better options than he. But that wasn't his concern at the moment.

The shock didn't hit him as hard as it should have. Armin was thankful for it- at least one of them should keep a level head in a situation such as this. He and Eren had taken the conversation out in the stables before it began. No one would pay any mind to them at such a aged hour. The smaller could see his breath, if just barely. Icy gusts blew past the door, rattling the hinges. Sometimes the entire roof rocked with the gale and moaned. Horses snorted, but didn't bother them. The air was as tense as it was cold, it seemed.

The brunette before Armin, sitting on an overturned bucket with his legs pressed together as tightly as possible, was and remains someone he couldn't imagine his life without. For as little as the blonde have given him, Eren had offered protection, time, friendship when few else found it profitable to give. Strife and triumph had colored those prior years thick and merciless. The smaller remembered staying up with Eren if he had been trapped in the throes of his nightmares, speaking softly when driven nearly mad by his own anger, doing his best to smile when their futility and mortality stood a bit too prominent in their lives. If Armin have given nothing else, it's been an open ear, honest advice and his promise of confidentiality.

So why couldn't he tell me he felt this way? Why did he have to catch the other not an hour ago with a hand on his cock, turned his way, and with his name spilling out as his release did? Not to mention on the third night they were sharing a bunk, Eren finally having been let out of the cellar.

"You know we don't have all night-"

"Yes, I know! Just let me think, wi-"

"You can't honestly not know why you did it."

"Well, I didn't! I-I mean I don't- Fuck. . ."

Admittedly Armin kept quiet, too, but for good reason. Death wasn't the only thing that can take Eren away from him (even if it failed the first time). The shorter wasn't lying necessarily- he just didn't think such information was imperative to share. To share such heavy words as to say he wanted more from Eren was a hasty and foolish move, no matter how innocent. Mom, Dad, Grandpa- I've already lost so many people and I'll be damned if I lose another due to carelessness.

Or so he thought.

"Did you at least enjoy yourself?"

Eren was seated in the furthest corner of the stables, near the door. Armin stood, leaned against the wall, arms folded, looking down. The power dynamic was established the moment Eren was caught. The criminal and the interrogator, prey and predator. Armin was guilty, of course, for the attack on his best friend, but you break an animal before giving affection- that's just how you get cooperation the best. On the bucket Eren bounced his knee and wrung out the now soiled handkerchief Armin lent him (for obvious reasons) in his hands. He didn't look up to the other. Not a word slipped out from his lips.

"As the object of your fantasy, I think I have a right to know."

Silence.

Finally Eren nodded, face painted white with horror.

Armin sighed. "Look." He walked to Eren, knelt to his level, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not mad at you for doing it. But this is something you should be able to share with me. You know I'm not so fragile as to be unable to understand this much."

"Armin, I hardly understand it myself." Eren finally straightened up. His tone was weighted down by defeat. Teal eyes swam with confusion and vulnerability. "This isn't- I'm not supposed to be focused on this. I'm a soldier, I have a job to do. And I don't know if it was just hormones or you or if you just, I dunno, looked like a girl from the back or if I'm going to start looking at the other guys differently- ah, shit." His head went in his hands. "I mean, Christ, those are our friends. And you are- Y-you were. . ."

Armin was smart enough to fill in the blank. You were my best friend and I don't know if it's going to stay that way. I'm lost and I'm scared. He smoothed his hand over the other's shoulder and rubbed his back. "It's ok. Just take a deep breath. Take your time and figure it out."

"Armin, the titans-"

"They're not going anywhere and we don't have another expedition for a couple of weeks. You can think and search all you like until then. I can guarantee that you'll regret dying without knowing."

Eren didn't speak. He inhaled, exhaled, slow and audible. Some of the mounts leaned in and sniffed the air. Another gust blew through the stable. Armin finally took the other in his arms. Apprehensively the embrace was returned. The two had always been close. From a tap on the shoulder to holding a hand, the intimacy and innocence of touch was never questioned. It all meant the same thing: You are my best friend and I care for you. Another weight was thrust upon this contact now. Something perverted; something sinful, perhaps dangerous. I want more was the message that festered in the silence. And once that line was crossed. . .

Well, there are many violated, betrayed and heartbroken who could tell you how that ended.

Eren curled his fingers into the fabric on Armin's back. He sniffled once. "I'm sorry. Just. . . Are we still friends?"

Armin bit his lip. Well, maybe. Maybe not. They could be inseparable or separated for good, more than they ever imagined or absolutely nothing. But that wasn't the thing to say. Both he and Eren needed more time. Him to find the answer to his preference and Armin to prepare in his own way. The blonde actually had no doubt about his sexuality. From all the stories he had read as a child, of princesses and knights and dragons, he had played with the ideas of princes with knights or princesses with mighty, warrior queens. From there, he decided that men and women had their merits and that he could appreciate both in the safe confines of his mind: Armin identified himself as bisexual and definitely felt something for Eren. But this wasn't a fairy tale. To break the news about reciprocated affection at this time was not wise and that alone does not deem one ready to take things further. Not to mention that Armin had found a way to give back for all the protection and kindness the other had given him. A second chance wasn't guaranteed. I need to learn what I can. How to deal with this, how to execute those kinds of behaviors, and to make sure I don't mess this up.

This is the one I want to be with for the rest of my life, no matter how I get to have him.

The blonde settled for a simple answer, even if it was a buttered-up lie. ". . . Of course. You don't need to doubt that. C'mon." He patted Eren's back and broke away. "Let's get back to bed."

The walk back was quiet. Neither felt the need to speak, nor did they want to touch more on what was already spoken of. Back in the barracks, Armin feigned sleep until Eren snored lightly (which didn't take long). Sure, he watched some, but that was it. With nimble feet, the smaller rolled off the bed and tip-toed away (without giggling), slithering along the corridors. After feeling along the stone for so long, his eyes finally adjusted. He could make out the faintest outlines of turns, stairwells and walls. Armin crept about accordingly. His footsteps echoed faintly and played tricks. But he did not startle. There was no stopping until he found his way to the library in the western wing. The boy looked left. Then right. Not a soul stirred.

One today is worth two tomorrows, Armin reassured himself. And he slipped past the heavy doors without out the slightest whine from the hinges.

-AOT-

I do not mean to say that I viewed those desires of mine that deviated from accepted standards as normal and orthodox; nor do I mean that I labored under the mistaken impression that my friends possessed the same desires. Surprisingly enough, I was so engrossed in tales of romance that I devoted all my elegant dreams to thoughts of love between man and maid, and to marriage, exactly as though I were a young girl who knew nothing of the world. I tossed my love for Omi onto the rubbish heap of neglected riddles, never once searching deeply for its meaning. Now when I write the word love, when I write affection, my meaning is totally different from my understanding of the words at that time. I never even dreamed that such desires as I had felt toward Omi might have a significant connection with the realities of my "life".

With one book tucked under his arm, Armin briskly walked down the hall with a second in his left hand, fingering a corner of the paper with the right. Peripherals were enough to keep him from running into anybody (he had gotten quite good at reading and walking at the same time). These words weren't exactly nonfiction, but when one crafts a story, they craft an experience. Any esteemed and responsible author has a lesson to teach and is to bend and weave their words to do so. Even a made-up story about a boy, grown into a man, who had to force himself to love a woman (Sonoko) and failed only to fall back to his admiration for his friend (Omi), was important. It presented insights on a brand of misery that no one seemed to speak of, perhaps of Eren's misery. And so Armin kept his nose buried in that book with little mind of the remaining chapters. He would read himself into a migraine, turn pages day and night if it meant he could learn something.

The talk in the stables had ended not even 48 hours ago. Noon had just dawned. Golden rays fell upon the stone floors. The windows had been thrown open to welcome the tepid warmth outside. Eren had become fickle in approaching his "friend" since the incident. The morning after that night, Armin didn't hear much from other, as Eren had woken and left the barracks before he could catch him. In the afternoon and evening, Eren at least made a handful of attempts to speak to Armin, but fear got the better of him. He promptly apologized and walked away again. At that point, Armin concluded that Eren was just nervous. I had best leave him be. He'll come around when he's ready. The next sunrise, however, Eren had at least waited for Armin to wake by sitting on the edge of the bed. He gave as normal of a "Good morning" as he could give. They made their separate ways to breakfast, training, and Armin was then on his way to the mess hall with the fruits of his late-night theft (it wasn't the first time he had entertained himself with stolen and illicit books). Sasha would have tried to eat his lunch if he were late.

A beige blur- a scout's coat- brimmed around the left leather corner. Armin side-stepped to the right, but a hand dusted his shoulder. He spun and stopped. The book slackened in his grip. He smiled. "Hi, Eren."

When called upon, the taller froze. He blinked. "U-um." He cleared his throat and adjusted his posture. "Hi. Mind if I walk with you?"

Armin inwardly smirked. Nice recovery there. "Yeah, it's fine. I was just headed for some lunch. What about you?"

"I just got back. Looks like you have a new book again, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." A soft crunch and the ruffle of parchment came from the re-opened spine. "The writing is a little old-fashioned, but it's really good and I can understand it all the same. The translation notes help."

"From what language?"

"Nothing I've ever heard of. It's got this flow to it, like. . . I dunno, flower petals down a river. Quite poetic. And the main character's pretty relatable for me. He wasn't born with a strong build and found it difficult to get along with other boys his age. And it sounds like a lot of Character Vs Self conflict- that's kind of my favorite."

"Really." The brunette's posture, while still straight and regal as a soldier's should be, had a thin layer of ease smoothed over once they started talking. The rhythm and familiarity was returning, bit by bit. How grateful Armin was for it! Not to mention proud- Eren was handling the situation rather well. "No wonder you haven't put it down. Any pictures?"

"Eh, some. It's not like the geography book we used to look at, though."

"Euugh." Eren grimaced at the teal, humanoid sketch on the cover. "I hope they don't all look like that guy."

The blonde chuckled. "I haven't been paying much attention to the pictures. You get so much more out of the words."

"What's it called?"

Armin checked the inside of the first page. "Confessions of a Mask."

"Never heard of it. What about that other one?"

It was the second book Armin had picked up, adorned in black and fiery yellow leather, that Eren referred to. Fortunately the title wasn't written on the cover. The Great Mirror of Manly Love? That's not for you to get into just yet, I don't think. You're better off focusing on you first. "Just something near the first one. I was in a rush when I got them so I didn't have a chance to look. I just pulled it off the shelf." And the blonde was telling the truth, even if it wasn't the entire truth.

Eren bent himself forward, trying to get a better look at the second text. ". . . Can I-"

"Nope!" Armin spun around and poked his tongue out.

The other frowned. "You didn't let me finish."

"I knew what you were going to ask, and the answer's still 'no.' You can only read one book at a time. And if you open it, then I'll want to read it and I'll get confused with the story lines." Armin knit his brows and stuck out his lips. The real reason- that was more or less his trump card, the piece that would stop him from asking questions that he didn't need to. Any decent strategist knows to keep their most effective weapons concealed, at least at the beginning. Faking innocence was an "ok" method, at least. It would be refreshing for Eren, considering all of the chaos that had been going on since they joined the corps, and wouldn't require deep thought. He could have latched onto it or taken it as a sign of suspicious activity. It was a gamble.

Is he taking the bait?

At first it didn't seem so. Eren raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting between the yellow book and Armin's pouted poker face. But that lasted all of a few seconds. The suspicion disappeared with a soft exhale and a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, you win." Eren's hands went up, signaling defeat, and he nestled them in his pockets. "I won't ruin your fun."

"Thank you." He smiled, spun back around-

"I'm serious, Armin."

For a moment, there was fear. Defeat. Eren's tone had been tainted with something that was neither comfort nor content. A suspicion crept up that maybe, just maybe, all of Eren's progress had been uprooted, wiped out like it was nothing. Armin turned and startled. When did he get so close?! The taller gazed down with the profound sadness, striking a chord akin to regret. Noontime light caught the moisture in his eyes and convied a lie that Eren may burst into tears at any moment. He parted his lips. To Armin, they suddenly seemed enticing. The taller did not speak. A hand came up and gently took the shape of Armin's cheek, even caught some golden strands of hair. And Armin would have been afraid or disturbed, had he the capacity to feel as such. They were not standing in a hallway but sealed off in a small bubble that was just them. It was a rare sight to see Eren so lost. But this loss was not to horror or fear or anger. It was a potent saudade, a remorseful nostalgia,that moistened his eyes and took his words away. Once again he seemed to be taking the blame for something that he had never caused. And his next sentences only confirmed Armin's suspicion.

"This," he muttered, ". . . This has to be the first time I've seen you so happy in a long time. About anything, really."

Armin couldn't find it in himself to reply. He couldn't look away from the other's eyes. He had seen them before. The small boy had seen them before, when he was smaller. His grandfather had that look whenever Armin came home hurt, his mother and father when they said their final goodbyes and left to see the world. Being caught up in wanting to do his job properly, now that he was a member of the Survey Corps, and keeping up with the rest of the soldiers, it was easy for him to forget that there were people who were content to have him for company, not utility. To have him just for the sake of having him. If it only came down to two people, or even the one that stared back at him with sad green eyes, that fact alone was enough to render him speechless and his heart fluttering in a most strange and delightful way.

The taller was the first to come back to his senses. Appalled alarm peeled his eyes wide open and dropped his jaw. "Oh my God- I-I'm sorry-" He ripped his hand off and staggered back. "A-actually, I think Captain Levi wanted me to clean the public bath out." Blood flooded his cheeks and ears, and ignited a furious blush. "Shit, I must be late and, you know how big a job it is. Sorry, Armin. Gotta go- Bye!"

Boot soles scaped frantically across the stone floor. Jaeger was out of sight. Arlert stood alone in the hallway.

Did. . . Did he just. . . ? The remaining boy touched his face as if to hold the last of the warmth there. And during all that, I just wanted to kiss him. Especially when he touched me.

Yes, Eren took the bait. The very wrong bait. Not to mention that the smaller let himself get swept away with some wanton urge.

Or there couldn't have been anything right or wrong about it. The loss for words, the blushing, the sudden need to leave- that was rather strong evidence that Eren was getting closer to his answer. But please don't run away from it. You'll only be miserable and lonely.

Unfortunately, Armin knew he couldn't force anything. Eren would have to wrestle it on his own, at least for the time being. So he went back to reading, continued on his way to the mess hall and patiently waited for the next time the other would seek his company.

-AOT-

He made his way to the pine grove at Tenjin about one li distant from the castle. There was a large boulder completely hidden by ivy with a giant laurel tree behind it where he sat in wait for his for. Dusk deepened, and as soon as it grew too dark to distinguish faces. Suddenly, who should appear but Gonkuro, gasping for breath.

"Is it you, Jinnosuke?"

"A coward is no friend of mine," he answered.

Moriwaki wept. "I won't make apologies here. I shall prove my love to you as we cross the river into the next world."

"I don't need your help," Jinnosuke retorted.

In the midst of this argument, Hanzawa Ihei appeared with fifteen of roughest men.

The four of them drew at the same instant and wielded their swords in the chaotic frey, determined to die manfully in the-

"Hey, what happened- Why are you crying?"

It was either the third or the fourth evening since the incident (most likely the fourth). Armin had lost track and didn't bother to count. The first book blurred the lines of day and night, of yesterday and today. How lonely, how harrowing, how surprisingly painful to read! And yet he couldn't put it down, almost having forgotten the reason he picked up the book in the first place. Confessions of a Mask didn't bring Armin to tears, but the depressing complexity of it all took almost every ounce of mental energy and attention he had, even when training or trying to fall asleep. For one, to read of how the protagonist (Konocho) viewed soldiers was flattering in a strange, depraved sort of way. For another, his feelings that fixated on death and sex gave a clear signal that Armin had opened a can of worms that he couldn't completely conceive. The latter was never explicitly mentioned in the writing. And for yet another, for as extremely negative as Konocho viewed himself, the sense of alienation was all too familiar and relatable. The masochistic fantasies and raw emotional torture portrayed in the book even invaded Armin's dreams. They were unpleasant, just short of being classified as a nightmare, and had nothing to do with "bombs" or "World wars" or things he should have been afraid of.

But then came this collection of short stories, forty gems of unrequited love- love worth dying for. Armin hadn't even finished the third one and he would surely turn into a hopeless romance junkie at this rate.

He looked up over the edge of this second text he had taken before and blinked. "I was crying?"

"You didn't know? Armin, you've been out here for an hour!"

Armin wipes his eyes and, sure enough, they were wet. He looked around. The courtyard of the Scouts' headquarters had been left empty. Sunset was long gone. Stars came out, some taking cover behind stratocumulus clouds, all against a purple and navy backdrop of the sky. Of course Eren would have come back to get him. Oh boy, he's got his angry eyes.

Now this boy wasn't just some obnoxious hothead. Eren Jaeger was never just "angry". His rage had a spectrum of its own, like paint colors on an artist's pallet or an instrument's octave. Words and actions splayed far and wide, from indignance if those closest to him had been persecuted, to a ravenous bloodthirst for fallen comrades, to the destructive titanic rampages that spoke louder than any amount of screaming ever could. His hate for the walls hardly scratched the surface. Even Mikasa and sweet little Armin had felt his wrath once or twice.

He gave his face one more smear on his sleeve and put on a smile for his newly arrived friend. "Sorry. I was reading this and it made me weapy. I'm fine, real- Gggh. . . !" Armin suddenly shivered and curled up in his spot, clutching the book to his chest. It wasn't this cold before, was it?!

The taller scowled. "Here."

A green blur rippled to Armin's left field of vision. The fabric slapped against itself. Heavy wool settled on his shoulders and the smaller was hefted up to his feet without warning.

"You've gotta look after yourself better, Armin." Eren wore his annoyance like an attentive mother. "One: you'll get sick and two: you'll get picked on again if the others see you crying over a book. Me and Mikasa aren't going to be around for forever, you know. And what made that book so good that it made you cry and sit out in the cold?"

"Sorry-"

"Goddammit, Armin, quit apologizing! That's its, were going inside before you catch som-"

"Heh-kew!"

And all hell froze over, with Armin caught red-handed covering up a sneeze and Eren glowering with disbelief.

Hoh, boy. . .

They had walked back into the barracks not a minute later. Or rather, the brunette walked back, "cargo" in tow over his shoulder, who didn't even try to fight it and instead opted to read a bit more. The grumbling raised a few head and questions, but they went ignored. All Armin offered was a soft "Maybe you should leave him alone for a bit". At least the former had gotten to finish the short story before the other threw him at the foot of the bottom bunk they shared.

The taller ripped his cloak, jacket, leather skirt and belts off in haste and proceeded to throw them into his compartment of the trunk at the foot of the bunk bed. "C'mon, under the covers."

Armin took the time to neatly fold the pieces of his uniform. He kept The Great Mirror of Manly Love in his lap and the cloak over his shoulders after his own coat was removed. "Eren, I'm ok. It was just a sneeze-"

"You were outside for an hour. In the cold."

"I feel perfectly fine, honest. Better now that I'm indoors."

"Get under the covers anyways. We're not risking bronchitis or pneumonia, understand?"

"Alright." He held out the stack of tidy uniform pieces to sleep in his usual shirt and pants, just like the others in the barracks (who had complained to the pair to shut up and go the fuck to sleep before Levi came in asking about the racket). Eren took them and tossed them in the trunk. He crawled in, lying closest to the wall like usual and staring out the window. Armin climbed in after, sliding his book underneath the bunk with the other one. The night had cleared up significantly. A shiny, white orb in the sky cast moonbeams from high above. Eren fidgeted with the blanket in his hands. The blonde narrowed his eyes. Is he still uncomfortable? And it suddenly occurred to him that he may have had trouble sleeping at night, being surrounded by the other guys, not to mention sharing the same bed as him.

Eren dropped his voice to a whisper while he continued to watch the night sky. "What made that story so sad, anyways?"

Interrogation time. Of course. Armin shook his head. "Just this hate letter and two characters that finally made up. It said some mean things, all 'You insulted this fan I made' and 'This gift was mine, but you gave it to this guy' and stuff like that."

"That's some weird stuff to be upset about."

"I can't remember the exact words right off the top of my head, but it was kind of harsh."

"Oh."

Armin closed his eyes and tried to relax. It would be a late night again. He had a close call once or twice by now, as that night was not the first late night in his research. Not to mention a few fantasies had already invaded his imagination. I can't tell him. Not yet. He opened them again and found that he was being watched. Eren's eyes, highlighted with a lunar glow, stood stark against the darkness like a mysterious guardian. But it had always been like that. When a particular beating almost became too much to bear, he would always show up in the nick of time with his sister close behind. Armin didn't have the easiest time breathing either, especially when he was little, but even at the verdant age of seven, when they had first met during one of Dr. Jaeger's visits, Eren used some of his second hand know-how to help Armin in whatever way he could. That was why he was so worried about me getting sick. The mindset didn't die in the refugee camps either, but rather it grew stronger. Perhaps possessive and destructive. Territorial. But it's not like I belong to him or he belongs to me. Not yet anyways.

He whispered again. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"For just being you. I know-" He adjusted his position on the bunk, rolling on his back and folding his hands on his chest. "I know I haven't been all there, lately. I'm still getting used to. . . this. Still trying to figure it all out. I've just wanted you to just keep being my friend and, well, I didn't really need to ask you for that. You just. . ." Eren shrugged and looked to the other. "You gave me exactly what I needed. I really appreciate it."

. . . Have I really? No, that can't be it. I've just been reading a lot and I'm starting to get confused as to whether I want to give to. . . or take from you. Armin blinked and turned to face him. "Don't sweat it. I haven't done much, really. Just take your time. It sounds like it's hitting you all at once, so it must be rough."

"Don't sell yourself short, buddy. You have no clue how much this means to me."

But how much is it worth? With Armin's dirty little secret kept under the bed and Eren not even questioning his loyalty, surely there was room for abuse. But I really don't want either one of us to end up like Konocho, either. Here it was, another gamble. Eren went back to watching the moon. Armin monitored something else entirely. The smallest flick of the other's long eyelashes; a strand of brown hair as it slid down the rest; the rise and fall of his chest with each relaxed breath- it was somehow homely, familiar, and sensual in its own way, as natural the rhythm of day and night. A warning blared in the back of the blonde's head. Conspirator! Pervert! That's your best friend there!

But I don't want that anymore. I want to express my gratitude in a stronger way and to receive the same gift. I want to do so fearlessly, uninhibited by anything else. Words simply can't do that, it seems, not with how I feel this.

Eren huffs out a breath. "Can you do me a favor and not tell anyone about all this?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die."

"Kill some fuckin' titans 'til that time?"

"That's terrible and you know it."

"Only if we actually die."

". . . Go to sleep, Eren. You sound like you need it."

The brunette paused and sucked his teeth. "Yeah, you're right. G'night, Armin." With that he flipped over on his left side and curled up.

With the sight gone, Armin frowned and settled with listening to his breathing. It didn't take long for the smaller to become such a hopeless romantic. Or something worse. The self control that he had up until now was fading. Either that or that he was just shrugging it off like a weight he no longer wished to carry. He extended a hand, as slow as an insect, to touch Eren's shoulder, to feel the warmth like in the hallway the other day. A tendril of thrill tossed deep in his belly. His cheeks and ears flushed hot. Armin stopped, inches shy of his goal. I'm being really selfish. He could have turned, let the drifting form be. And that's what he did. Because that wasn't the time. It may not come for a while. And I have to wait for that, but that doesn't mean my time goes wasted as long as I'm responsible.

Even breathing came from Eren's side of the bed, so Armin slipped out. I'm so all over the place tonight. I have to step back for a second and focus. He went to the trunk and quietly rummaged through for a matchbox.

White phosphorus hissed and a small fire spread its arms as it was born. The light was passed to a tall candle and Armin took a seat on the floor so as not to wake anyone else. Squinting, he found a red thread in the pages that he had not noticed before, but thought nothing of it and used it as a bookmark of sorts. The hours passed, soldiers dozed. All the while Armin continued to study, to plan his next move as the time ripened and approached.

Medicine that takes lives.

A woman's handwriting leads him to his lover.

Struck by an arrow at a river forded in secret.

-AOT-

So here are the disclaimers:

Attack on Titan belongs to Hajime Isayama;

Confessions of a Mask belongs to Yukio Mishima;

And The Great Mirror of Manly Love belongs to Saikaku Ihara.

Check out the last two- I've heard nothing but good things about them. The former is quite raw and serious, while the latter is more innocent and makes fun of some of the tropes, such as "woman-hating". Again, I have never read either of these books. I'll also be referring to other books in the coming chapters, which will also appear here if you would like to find them.

And I may or may not have wanted to make a character bisexual. Thought it would be interesting- I don't read a lot about bisexual characters in these fanfictions. I know that we haven't gotten to the "Top!Armin" part of it just yet. Don't worry, you'll be seeing that in the next chapter if all goes as it should.

Also, shout out to my buddy, Roman! For having met him just a little bit ago, he has been kind enough to look over my writing and make sure that it was all good. Give him a cookie in the comments. Until then, see you next chapter. :)