Something that I had learned a while ago was that Armin had skin so soft it would put a young child to shame. His hair was a beautiful color, it was silky and wonderful; I could run my fingers through it and brush it effortlessly. His eyes were a infinity of blue, a color I found myself staring into for minutes upon minutes. Armin, who I pretended to be no more than friends with in public, was so much more than a best friend. He was my partner; My lover, my ocean. He was my infinity, and my always.
We did not need words to tell each other how much we were in love. Our love was silent, expressed only in light touches and kisses in the dead of night when neither of us could find the comforting darkness of sleep (that never lasted long enough anyways). There were nights where we became all the sleep the other needed. Wrapping ourselves up in a blanket, pulling each other close and becoming a tangled mess of limbs. In the morning we would relish in how we were a mess that seemed to be impossible to pull apart; we were one being. One whole human, composed of two who had been broken by death and war.