Eren was used to sick people in his house. Used to the sick, used to the injured, used to the dying. When Armin came down with the same sickness that was going around town, when his grandfather got too sick to take care of him, when Eren's mom offered to take Armin in until he got better, Eren secretly rejoiced at the opportunity. Sleepovers every night, breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, playing all day.
Instead, Armin wound up being quarumteamed (quarantined, Armin's voice had corrected him, thick with the sickness in his lungs, coughing cutting out the rest of the sentence), barely able to eat anything at all, and Eren found himself sullenly kicking rocks outside, squinting at the sky, wondering when it would be time for his dad to unlock the door and let him in to visit Armin for a few, precious minutes.
It was even harder on Armin, Eren knew. Stuck in bed, hurting all day, and they didn't have lots of books like Armin's house had. Armin had already gone through their whole collection, and was down to reading Eren's dad's boring medical books. Armin had said he was fine with it, really. He showed Eren an illustration of what the inside of an eyeball looked like. It was super gross, and Eren gaped openly.
Still, Eren knew that he'd be done with that book in short order, too. A thought crossed his mind, and his jaw set with determination. He ran indoors, a boy on a mission, and snatched paper and pen from his father's desk.
He had just enough time to put the finishing touches on before his father approached. He inspected the state of his desk, the yanked-open drawers, the stolen charcoal, and sighed. He set a hand on Eren's shoulder, and wordlessly led him to the sick room.
Eren marched in, heart filled with purpose, arms filled with paper. Armin stared at him blearily. The medical books were stacked neatly on the table beside him, ready for Eren's father to take back. But Eren had something way better.
"I wrote you a book." Eren shoved the messy stack of papers into Armin's lap. "Read that instead of boring stuff."
Armin gingerly picked of the stack, a smile on his face for the first time in ages, it seemed.
"'Armin and Eren See the World'," Armin read the title aloud, softly.
"It's got pictures," Eren noted, proud. "There's one on page three of us riding that gray animal with a big nose. And on page five we race the ocean animals. All of them. And we win."
Eren snapped his mouth shut. Whoops. He shouldn't have spoiled the book before Armin could even read it. But Armin looked at him with clear, bright eyes, a clear, bright smile.
"Thank you," Armin whispered. "But my lungs are still bad. Read it aloud for me?"
A good plan if Eren ever heard one. He took the first few pages from Armin's lap, cleared his throat, and began.
"Armin and Eren's balloon flew far away, and they set down in the sand next to the ocean. An ocean fish saw them and said hi, and they waved back before a big bird came down from the sky and told Armin and Eren that they had to help it find its babies, and the babies were eggs, and the eggs were covered in gems. They faced down the dragon that stole the eggs before he could roast them up, and everyone cheered, except the dragon, who stomped his feet and farted because he lost. Then they paraded down the mountain and danced with the birds until way past bedtime…"