Eren got a strong sense of déjà vu as he walked through the steel doors.
Despite being "familiar" with Armin—as well as the added security measures given in the form of armed escorts—the brunette was nervous as hell. He had hurt his sister twice now, but the second reason was technically self defense—Mikasa had admitted to the crime (is it a crime though?) and as a result was admitted into the very same mental the brunette stood in now.
And it's my fault, he added grimly to himself, what rotten luck…
"Bring him out."
The area they were meeting was vastly different from when they first met. Instead of the rather cozy looking cell, they were brought into a room strikingly similar to an interrogation room—one-way window included. It made him extremely uncomfortable, but he got a feeling that that may actually be the point as he settled down into one of two seats facing a table.
A loud slamming of another door knocked him out of his thoughts, and two more men dragged a familiar blonde clad in a straight jacket to the other seat.
"Here he is," a familiar voice boomed through an intercom, "You have ten minutes."
Eren stared at the blonde, taking in his appearance. "You look…better…"
Despite his healed injuries, Armin looked like shit. He had bags under his wide eyes, his skin was as white as paper, and an unsettling smile graced his exhausted face. His hair was disheveled and dirty, and his small, frail frame was shaking uncontrollably with what had to be barely controlled laughter.
"Really?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "Or…are you just saying that because you've nothing else to say?"
Eren almost snorted at the comment, but then realized that three months was actually a really long time to spend alone—especially in his current state of mind. Hell, Eren figured he would have lost it if he were in his shoes…
Swallowing a bout of nausea and guilt, the brunette pressed on as he awkwardly shuffled his papers on the table. "I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright with—"
"Cut the shit," the blonde interrupted, "you…you're here to ask why I almost killed your sister again, aren't you?"
There was a loud rip and Eren noticed that he had mistakenly ripped one of his notes. "Shit…" he cursed, setting the paper down and forcing himself to take a deep breath. "I…I just wanted to ask about the entire incident in general, as well as your take on it."
"Your sister knows what happened, doesn't she?" Armin asked, giggling slightly. "She confessed to everything—unless you're still desperately trying to prove her wrong and clear her name. I'm sorry but she actually does deserve what she got—more so, actually—"
"Mr. Arlert," Eren forced out through gritted teeth, "please remain professional."
The blonde studied him for a moment. "You're an interesting person," he said, "you're strong, yet you act like you're made of paper. Quite pathetic really."
"Mr. Arlert—"
"But," the blonde continued, staring at him with lifeless eyes and an unsettling smile. "That makes you a weakness."
Eren blinked at that statement. "…what?"
The blonde laughed at his confusion. "Those who are strong are weaknesses to others, because they draw strength from them. If they fall, then the weak fall as well. They do all they can for the strong in an effort to be strong, but it's all for nothing—I know that because I'm weak and your sister destroyed my only source of strength in my life because she's weak."
Rip! There went another page. Dammit…
"You want to know what happened?" Armin asked, tilting his head again as his eyes became more and more lifeless and unnerving. "You made your sister weak. You made her want to become strong, which became her undoing—she's a resident here now, isn't that right?"
Rip! "You'd better watch your words, Armin Arlert," he growled, "one word from me and you'll be dragged back down to your little hell to suffer in silence."
Armin's grin and eyes widened at the threat, paying him no heed. "How does it make you feel, Eren Yeager?" the blonde asked almost sweetly, "The fact that you drove your beloved sister to madness?"
Rip! "That was all your doing," Eren growled, "You tortured her."
"'You know I love you…'" the blonde quoted, his smile widening as he batted his eyelashes in a hideous attempt at impersonating his sister. "'He hurt my Eren…'"
Riiip! How the hell did he hear that conversation!? Did it have to do with him sneaking off to Mikasa's room? Or did he somehow overhear? Either way, he couldn't stand another second breathing the same air as this…this demon!
Have you ever stopped and wondered what made him that way?
"You know," Armin said, pulling Eren back from his thoughts. "You guys always seemed so close…I wonder how close you even are to each other…"
"You're pushing your luck Mr. Arlert," The brunette growled.
The blonde laughed out loud. "You think I care? I'm going to be thrown back down to my cell once this is over, so I might as well have fun while I'm free, right?"
"Mr. Arlert…"
"I know you're adopted," he continued, paying the brunette no heed. "So…if you were to be in a…say romantic relationship—"
"Mr. Arlert—"
"—it wouldn't be incest," he finished, "so tell me—do you want to be in a romantic relationship with her? I know she does—with the whole 'my Eren' and all—"
"We're done here," Eren interrupted tersely, reduced to physically restraining himself to not snap the blonde's neck right then and there.
The blonde suddenly stood and lurched forward, prompting the two bodyguards to grab him. "Be as strong as you want!" he shouted, struggling fruitlessly against the two men. "It doesn't matter what anyone else says, I didn't break her—you did! 'I'm not your Eren'—you knew how possessive she was of you and you tore her apart with just ONE sentence more than I ever could with a thousand KNIVES!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Eren yelled, slamming his fists onto the table. "You—YOU don't know SHIT!"
"You're her WEAKNESS!" the blonde screamed back, voice rising with uncontrolled giggling. "It doesn't matter what I've done—you'll get her killed, don't you see?! It doesn't matter how strong you are, you'll always—ALWAYS—make the ones you love fall! You're a WEAKNESS Eren Yeager! A WEAKNESS!"
The brunette stood and took his torn papers and practically ran out of the room, the blonde's inane, uncontrolled giggling sending shivers down his spine.
"Can you get that Allison?"
The woman grumbled as she stood from her desk in her office. Her lazy husband was in the kitchen right next to the front door. "Get off your fat ass and get it yourself!"
"I'm cooking," her husband said, "and my hands are dirty."
"You're cooking with dirty hands!?" the woman shrieked, rushing into the kitchen to find her husband seasoning some steaks.
"Not that kind of dirty," her husband sighed, "I just touched raw meat. Since you're up here can you please get the door?"
Grumbling to herself again, the woman did as she was told. "What?" she demanded as she opened the door.
She analyzed the person standing before her—a person with dark hair, kind eyes, and freckles sprinkled across their cheeks. If she wasn't in such an awful mood, she might have considered him attractive.
"Who the hell are you?" she asked instead.
"Oh, that's not important," he said, smiling sweetly at her.
The woman glared at him. "What are you getting at? Do I need to call the authorities?"
"No, I wouldn't recommend it," the man replied, "Because who you are is important, Allison."
"H-how…how do you know my name?" she demanded, "Who are you!?"
"Just a friend of a relative."
Her brain worked at a million miles per hour—her dad had just died, and her only other living relative was…
"My entire family's dead," she replied bluntly, "I don't have any relatives."
"Honey, who is it?" her husband suddenly asked from the kitchen.
"J-just a friend," she murmured, stepping outside and closing the door. When she did, she turned on the freckled man. "Who the fuck do you think you are!?"
"Just someone helping out a friend," the man replied, his kind smile still in place.
The woman was getting sick of this man's mind tricks. "I'll only ask one more time," she growled, "Who are you?!"
"I guess I'm not as good at being cryptic as my friend is," the man laughed, scratching his head.
"Whatever," the woman muttered, "Just answer the damn question!"
The man laughed again as he put out a hand for her to shake.
"I'm Marco Bodt," he said, "Nice to meet you, Amber Arlert."