Dusty and worn, the leather binding that covered the fragile pages was worn and well loved. It smelled of old paper, it crinkled so softly, the sound a comforting noise in the midst of a storm. He never tired of the words and tales the book said and often when he returned to you there would be small cuts on his fingers to kiss and he would smell of the old yellowing pages. He would read each word, each grammatical error or something he never read before.
His eyes had been strained so often he now wore glasses. They were bent from falling asleep on late nights with the book as his pillow. You would gently grab them with yours fingers, tucking them away and letting him sleep with a kiss on the head.
So often you would watch fascinated as he immersed himself in tales and facts for him to know. You found his focus on the books adorable and cute. Although you know that Armin was now a grown man, you couldn't help but admire the crease in his eyebrows are the intense glint in his eyes. At night you would hold his hands in yours, listening to him tell you the tales he had read of that day.
Each word that fell from his lips you would nod along to, with a small smile. You knew that his thirst of knowledge had been there since a young age. Now and then he would bring up his old dreams of wishing to see the ocean. And while the horrors of the world were mostly gone, you would still hold him at night from when you both think about lives lost and would never be brought back.
Till this day and night, you listened to him whisper softly into the night, as if unsure you were awake or not about how he would like to see the ocean at least once. If not for himself, but for his friends that were now gone. Sometimes he would say that the books were enough. But you knew in your heart, that the old and worn pages would never give him what he needed.
You promised to be there by his side with every paper cut and every book read, and onto when he finally saw what he truly longed for.