Hi everyone, here is my fic for today's prompt 'hurt/comfort' - I hope you all like it. :)
Armin isn't sure what to call the tenuous thing between himself and Jean. Friendship would seem like a good word but for the fact that it feels too delicate and he already knows friendship from Eren and Mikasa (and he suspects Jean gets it from Marco). This feels different: a tentative understanding like an animal that could run frightened into the woods at the slightest provocation. As a result, Armin tends to choose his words carefully around Jean, wanting to keep him on side (though part of him suspects he's just being overly cautious). He values Jean's opinion and he's sure Jean values his; every time they converse about things Jean listens closely and gives him a little smile, a warm one that reaches his eyes and makes Armin's pulse pick up speed up ever so slightly.
As smart as Armin is, it takes him a long time to figure out why that is and when he does realise it he isn't sure how to accept it. He doesn't want to say anything to Jean – he doesn't even want to say anything to Eren or Mikasa for fear of making anything too real – and so he continues in silence. Long nights are spent lying on his back, staring up at the bottom of the bunk above, going over his thoughts again and again, bottom lip between his teeth. In the silence, he asks himself what exactly he feels for Jean. When he's awake it's easy to brush it off as a wish for close friendship, but in Armin's dreams they act distinctly closer than just friends. Sometimes Armin wakes with a blush on his cheeks and the need to dunk his face into a basin of cold water; he can never quite meet Jean's eyes after dreams such as those.
Armin gets good at silence, at smiling and shaking his head when anyone asks or says anything, at compartmentalising so he can keep his head in the game and carry out his duties. It's tiring but easier than trying to explain something as ridiculously inane as a crush to anyone else; they have more important things to do. As much as he habitually dislikes hiding anything from Eren and Mikasa, he fears they wouldn't understand: he knows how Eren doesn't really like Jean and if Mikasa misinterpreted anything it could all go wrong very quickly. So he gets good at silence.
The silence breaks – as it inevitably always would – one night, not long after Trost. Armin is lying awake again in the barracks, and thinks he might be alone but then he hears a break in the usual sounds of soft breathing from around himself. Wondering perhaps if Reiner might be about to start snoring again, he goes to clamp his pillow over his ears but then he hears a sniff followed by a short little gasp and freezes. It's unmistakeably the sound of someone crying, and what's more, Armin's almost certain it's Jean. For a long moment, Armin lies still: should he go over and offer comfort to Jean? He'd go over right now but for the fact that Jean is obviously trying not to be heard and Armin knows how proud Jean can be.
Another soft sob makes Armin's decision for him: he pushes back his blanket and creeps quietly over to Jean's bunk, treading lightly on the cold flagstone floor in his bare feet.
"Jean?" he whispers, voice barely rising above a breath.
The sound of Jean's breaths pauses and Armin's stomach twists – did he screw it up? – but then Jean slowly sits up, staring at Armin through the darkness. "Armin?"
"Are... are you okay?" asks Armin – it's a stupid question of course but Armin can feel his heart hammering hard in his chest and it makes his mind feel slow. "I... heard you."
Jean's gaze drops to his lap: in the dim moonlight slanting through the windows Armin can see a frown creasing his forehead. "Sorry."
"For what?" Armin blinks, confused. Jean never apologises.
"Did I wake you?" asks Jean. "I didn't mean to."
"No," Armin says softly, moving a little closer. "No I – I couldn't sleep."
Jean swallows. "Neither can I."
Armin casts a glance over Jean, taking in his heavy-lidded, tired eyes, his slumped shoulders and shaking hands. Every part of Armin longs to reach out and embrace Jean, to give him comfort and understanding and help ease him into sleep. But he knows it's not that simple.
"You're allowed to miss him," whispers Armin, sinking to his knees by Jean's bunk.
Jean looks up, eyes full and lips pursed. For one second, Armin thinks Jean might be about to shut him out, push him away and pull the blanket over his head, but then he leans forward, staring at Armin with wide hazel eyes.
"I keep thinking he can't be gone," murmurs Jean. "Like he must be okay but I just can't see him or something."
Armin nods, shuffling a little closer and sitting down on the floor. Before he can stop himself, he reaches out with one hand, stopping halfway to Jean's hand when he realises what he's doing. His face starts to slowly flush but then Jean reaches towards him and takes the proffered hand. Armin can feel his face burning properly now, at the warmth from Jean's hand in his and how much he knows it's taken for him to let Armin see him like this. A gentle squeeze to his hand brings his gaze back to Jean's face. Neither of them says anything for a moment, and Armin stays quiet, trying to give Jean space to speak in and fill with his thoughts rather than Armin's. Eventually Jean sighs, the sound masked by the slow rumbling that signals the fanfare to Reiner's nightly snoring.
"I don't know how to say it," says Jean. "I just... I knew this was dangerous but I never... I didn't think he'd..."
His face crumples and Armin squeezes his hand tightly. "You can't beat yourself up for that," he says firmly. "None of us really understood it until now."
"No one else is acting like this though."
"Everyone reacts differently to things," insists Armin. "You can feel however you feel. No one else matters."
Jean tries a small smile. "You're so nice," he says ruefully.
Armin shrugs. "No point in being unkind," he says. Especially to you, he adds silently.
"Marco was the same," says Jean. "He was so much better than me."
"That's not true." Armin shakes his head. "No one's objectively better than anyone else, just different."
"I guess," says Jean. "He didn't deserve to die though."
"Neither did anyone," points out Armin, "but that's why we keep fighting, isn't it?"
Jean nods. "I don't want him to be forgotten though. Who's going to remember him in a year?"
"You will," says Armin. "I will. We all will."
Jean stays quiet, hand still in Armin's, but his face seems more serene than before.
"I promise he won't be forgotten," adds Armin. "We should remember him – and remember him well."
Jean nods again. "You're right." He pauses, apparently contemplating whether to say his next words or not before he adds quietly, "You're always right."
Armin opens his mouth to protest but then they hear footsteps coming towards the barracks from far down the corridor outside. Instead, Armin squeezes Jean's hand once more, tighter than before. "I should get back to bed but I... If you want to talk about anything I'll listen."
Jean nods, clasping Armin's hand between both of his for one more second. "Thanks Armin."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
With one last hurried smile, Armin scurries quietly back to his own bed and dives under the blanket just as he hears someone enter the barracks and begin patrolling between the bunks.