bound to linger on:
(Largely inspired by macrauchenia's fanfictions and AMVS)
You wasted your times
On my heart
You've burned
And if bridges gotta fall
Then you'll fall too
Doors slam
Lights black
You're gone
Come back
Stay gone
Stay clean
I need you to need me
Ever since her eyes had flickered open and her protective shell had shattered, he had visited her every day. She recalled the moment her eyes had opened, vision blurry at first, memories rushing back to her with such a sense of clarity that her head felt like it was being split apart. When she was in the crystal, dreaming away her life, it had felt like she was floating. While sleeping, she hadn't had a single worry. She didn't know who she was, nor did she constantly see the faces of the countless casualties that was her doing. It was a tranquility she never deserved, a peace that was supposed to be reserved for good people. Unawareness, the other side to the coin of unconsciousness, was pure bliss. Swimming through a mind that couldn't grasp at broken fragments, a mind so ravaged and destroyed that nothing mattered, not even the concept of failure, was flawless and terrifying at the same time.
She wished to be there again. Entrapped in a shimmering skin, impenetrable (unbreakable) to the people on the other side. Annie wasn't sure how it had broke. Perhaps something in her mind had snapped like a cord, and the crystal had merely followed along in tow, completely dependent on the unwillingness to think or feel. She wanted to be there again. Still in the world, but never part of it. A rock in a strong current, watching branches and decay pass through, but so jammed in the sand that it never moved.
She shivered, longing to curl her knees up to her chest, the chains around her restraining any movement. It was damp in this prison, and dark. She had always been afraid of the things (memories) that lurked (remorse) in the (horror) dark. Eventually, the monsters (the world) would pounce at her, and she wouldn't be strong enough to fight them away. There was a small singular candle on the other side of the barred door, and she squinted, looking at the illuminating flame with desire. Warmth. That was a luxury she had always taken for granted. All she wanted was to sleep, to forget. Her eyes drooped, remembering all the things that pressed against her head like a heavy weight.
She had failed to become a warrior.
She had been so close to grasping at victory- no, not even victory, because she didn't actually care- but that notion had been demolished the second she had decided to let Armin Arlert live. She squeezed her eyes together, regretting, regretting, regretting- but not really regretting. She allowed him to live. He was still breathing today, still visiting her, all because she had hesitated. All because she had been weak.
She was nothing anymore. Annie Leonhardt had failed in her mission, and all the strings that attached her to her goals were gone, cut as cleanly as Mikasa had cut her fingertips.
She should be thankful. Grateful that they had spared her, that Eren had ceased in his movements to kill her.
But she wasn't, because death would've been kinder.
Annie shifted, her shirt torn at the edge, her wrists unnaturally thin and crusty with dried blood. She breathed, and it hurt. That miniscule movement stung her injuries, her wounds from the- days? Hours? Weeks? She couldn't be bothered- visitations from Levi. Whenever he stepped into the room, menacing and demanding, she still knew that she wouldn't tell him anything. Not speaking resulted in punches, kicks, and hits. He almost went as far to cutting off her hands, her limbs, with the disturbing knowledge that they could simply regenerate, but his hand had shook when he picked up a large blade, and he left the room after offering a disgusted 'tch.'
Her stomach was long past the point of growling. It had shrunken, ribs showing through the fabric, and she found after multiple days, Annie no longer felt the hunger. Which was a bad sign, and they had to feed her again, unless they wanted their only advantage to dissipate into bones and dust. She let out a stifled cry as she leaned up once again, her bones cracking. Still, she'd rather face 'Humanity's Strongest' than Armin. Anything- anyone- but him.
He had been gone for a long time, and she was beginning to miss him. She was starting to miss his condescending glances, his demanding words, his constant repeat of reminders that she had killed them, and if Annie didn't know any better, she'd say he was becoming a sadist. His blue eyes seemed to enjoy how she squirmed underneath his harsh words, and while Levi and Eren were good interrogators, Armin was the only one that managed to crawl underneath her skin and pick and pick like a vulture that couldn't be satisfied.
There was the sound of barked, muddled laughter from outside the room (most likely the drunkard guards) and she stiffened nonetheless, muscles tensing with anxiety and fear. She curled her hands into a trembling ball of a fist, nails clipped to the point of bleeding. She wanted to wince, to cry, to scream- but there was still the remainder of a scrambled warrior within her that managed to pull her together every day. No matter her defeat, her brain was hardwired for success since the day her father had sunk that glinting needle into her flesh.
All in all, she'd been having a very tiresome day all cramped up in this dungeon. She was sore, aching, temple throbbing, and to top it all off, sleep was almost a rarity. There was a magnitude of things that kept her from sleeping. Nightmares, mostly; the images of her comrades being crunched in a Titan's mouth, Mina's body splattering over her. And then there was Levi's squad. The bloody smears that they had been reduced to after her leg had flailed out. Their bodies laying twisted and mangled in the dewy grass, the sun glinting on their opened (still shocked) eyes.
It was necessary, she reminded herself, the thought only serving the purpose to keep her from falling into a slump of a shell, much like her crystallized barrier had been. Nevertheless, she still saw the reflection of their crumpled frame, still heard the cries of agony as she had murdered them in a haze of cold blooded heat. The images caused her body to shudder with desperation and exhilaration and hatred for herself. IT- - The voices outside began to argue. WAS- She recognized his voice almost immediately. Even after everything, she would always spot his face in a sea of black and grey. NEC- The key jammed into the lock. ESS- The door opened, and a splay of light spread into her prison. She breathed, and it came out in puffy smoke. It must've been late fall, or early winter to be this cold. Armin stepped in, his blonde hair as ridiculous as ever. ARY-
"Annie," he greeted. His voice was bright, light as ever, and in his hand was a few lit candles. He set them down on the small wooden table on the other side of the room, resting on the stool that resided near the edge of her bed. The first few times he came, the candle shook in his trembling hand, and all their one-sided conversations ended with him yelling and shouting and demanding whys that she couldn't answer.
It had been a long time since before. The soft boy she had cared for was long dead, replaced by this calculating, broken, charred man. His shoulders were broader, more muscular, his chin more angular and hardened. She squeezed her eyes shut, tearing her vision from his. She could still remember the time when her touch had never been so delicate, the time when her large fingers (meant for destruction) had gingerly pulled his hood back, his blue eyes wide with recognition and fear. Her touch had never been so caring, so placid. Her knuckles shook further. It had been the first time- the only time- she had ever used her hands for something other than violence.
And look where it led you, her father's voice chided in her head, sending spasms of longing through her. Normalcy was nothing she had ever been rewarded with, and maybe (although it was probably wishful thinking) his wish for her to return would be to mold her into a girl that was normal, a girl that didn't have to flip full grown men over her shoulder, a girl that didn't have to murder or lie or betray-
She heaved a breath, ceasing the tangent in her mind.
"Are you going to talk today, Annie?" he asked, voice neutral and unwavering.
The only response was the faint dripping of the buildup of moisture
Armin sighed. She wondered when he had began to fake his usually sincere, worried smiles. She wondered when the light in his blue eyes was diminished down to a dimness that couldn't be contrived. Or maybe this uncaring, sadistic Armin was reserved especially for her. Either way, the idea caused her stomach to twist.
"They're talking about killing you," he eventually murmured. She opened her eyes wider, shooting him a questioning look that she tried to pass off as dismissive. "You're becoming a waste of space, Annie. Without answers, they have no need for you."
She shrugged, her chains rattling.
Armin leaned forward. "Stop acting like it doesn't matter. You care about dying. You still care. You still want to win. You still want to survive. If you tell me everything you know, maybe we can work something out."
You and I both know that's a lie.
Annie licked her dry lips together, teeth smacking from the chill to the air. Armin looked down, eyes guilty, but that was also a lie. He took off his green cape, walking over and draping it over her small form. She shivered underneath the fabrics contact, but relished in the slight warmth. He remained in that same position, his hand on her shoulder. It's not like she could do anything about it, so Annie merely mustered up an attempt at a menacing glare that likely came out as a weary squint. He was right, however. No matter how much she wanted to not care about her inevitable demise, she did. She wanted to survive, no matter the costs, no matter what the stakes. That trait was what made her (almost) a warrior.
"Would you like to know something?"
She wanted him to leave, but the second he stepped from the threshold, she wanted him to come back. It was a never ending cycle, the isolation and the avidity. It was eradicating her, and it was in a way that she couldn't simply deny it. She had never understood Armin Arlert- but it was clear by now that he understood her perfectly. She wasn't sure when it happened, or why, but one day he spoke to her like her thoughts did. He knew what she wanted, knew who she was, (perhaps even better than she knew herself) and sympathized with her. Armin also manipulated her to his advantage, knowing her secrets before she even knew them herself. And in that way, she hated him. She wanted to dig her fingernails into his flesh until he cried, she wanted to kiss him-hard- and rip her top teeth into his pale lips. Annie Leonhardt wanted a lot of things, and Armin always seemed to linger near the top of the list.
He made her weak.
Annie 'hmm'd a faint response, but it was a sign of acknowledgement, and Armin's eyes widened as the thick silence broke.
"You cried."
Her grey eyes narrowed in his direction, the taste of bile spreading through her mouth.
"When Corporal Levi got Eren back, he saw you crying. He just assumed that it was because you lost, but I think that it was more than that. When you fell-" he didn't need to implicated further- "You were crying. Like streaks of silver leaving lines down your face. Not many people saw, but I did. Why is that?"
She chuckled. It was hoarse and raspy, but she managed to force it, enduring the pain of her throat.
"Why is that funny?"
Her laughter stopped, and she buried her face further into the green cloth that she once used to wear.
"Or maybe it's not funny to you at all. Maybe your laughter is you crying on the inside. Is that a ridiculous notion?"
He leaned over her, his scent a mixture of sweat and sweet. Her chains rattled as he unlocked them with a key. She let out a sigh, nearly a cry, of placid relief, as her bound arms were released. They were stiff, a dark red, and she rubbed her wrists through a seethe.
"There. Is that better?" Armin asked, like it actually mattered to him.
"Why are you still insisting that I'm a good person?" She spoke quickly, nearly mutely, but he managed to catch it.
I'm glad I could be a good person for you, Armin.
It was Armin's turn to shrug. "Because I'm here, aren't I? Because you let me live."
Her giggle came out cruel.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because it's funny."
Another silence fell in between them, building and building until it hurt to breathe and-
"What is so funny?" he repeated, blue eyes as optimistic as ever.
"How pathetic you are." She left her answer at that, enjoying the slight recoil to his soft (now hard) features, relished in the brief hurt that expanded over the ocean of his two vibrant orbs. She liked to hurt him, and a wave of satisfaction passed through her. He liked to hurt her, and so she would hurt him. All the same, as she gathered in another breath, an apology lay lurking on her cracked and crimson lips.
"What's pathetic about me?"
Damn him. Why couldn't he leave her alone? Why did he have to torture her with that sharp tongue of his? It was the only suitable weapon against all the other fruitless attempts, and she knew it, and so did he. That was the only reason he was here. Not because he cared for her, (but it was difficult to deny when his eyes shone with genuine concern rather than sizzling accusations) but because he needed answers.
Annie pondered over her answer for a moment. "Your delusions that I'm a good person. The sick pleasure you take over watching me squirm. That's what makes you a waste of space, Armin Arlert."
They said nothing more for a while, and she took that time to soothe her wrists by pressing them to the water dripping down the wall. It was the first relief she had felt in a long, long time.
"I see," he muttered. "I won't deny that, but I could justify it for you."
"I'd rather you wouldn't," she said, biting back a scathing remark, her eyelids drooping from exhaustion. She wanted to curl up and rest, and she could even turn into a Titan if she really wanted to, her hands freed from their binding, but those blue eyes stopped her.
He followed her gaze down to her hand. "You could shift, if you want to. But if you do that, the ceiling around us will cave."
"And?" her tone is mocking.
"And I'll die."
She smirked, teeth flashing. "What makes you think that I care what happens to you?"
Just do it. You can go back to your father. You can still succeed. Her thumb and index finger hovered over her chapped lips, and she caught Armin visibly stiffen from the corner of her eye. A wave of his own uncertainty rolled through her, accompanied by the knowledge that came with it. This was nothing more than a gamble, a bet, much like all the others they had made with one another in the past.
You've won your bet, but this is where my bet begins.
Armin stared at me, eyes burning and thoughtful. If anyone could inflict pain with their eyes, it would be Armin. "The fact that you haven't turned into a Titan."
His words caused her mouth to taste like bile, and she spat over the bed. "It's a trap," she excused. "A gambit to which I refuse to wager in."
"I see," was all he offered, blonde hair falling over his eyes and shielding is expression. Out of all the things that changed about him, his girly hair did not. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were covered with an emotion much like the one she had seen the day of her fall. Fall, Annie. She slumped further down, curling her bare feet from the grimy and freezing air, still shivering with every gust of air that blew. She watched his features intently, memorizing every detail to his expression, every shade of blue that glimmered in his big eyes. "Why didn't you kill me that day?"
Why didn't I kill you then?
She glowered at him. "I didn't consider you a threat."
She hated herself for loving him.
Armin laughed, almost breathlessly, but it lacked any humor or delight. He reached out, not hesitantly, but uncharacteristically confident, and grasped the hand near her mouth. He brought it down with deliberate slowness, placing his warm hand on her grimy one. It was ironic how she looked at him, hoping for him to look back at me with the same longing. She needed him to need her, but Annie would always look away because she didn't want him to see how much she needed him. Armin would be everything without her, and Annie without him would be nothing. It was stupid to feel that way about someone that had backed her into a corner. It was more than stupid, it was disturbing. She didn't care if he hurt her, as long as it was him who did the hurting. Anything to be near him.
He intertwined their fingers.
Her stomach twisted again, and she ripped her hand away.
"Which was a mistake."
"It was," she whispered.
I have failed to become a warrior.
"Have you given up, Annie?" he asked. Armin's voice was quieter this time, like he was afraid of the answer. "You seem so tired."
A tear traced down her cheek, leaving a clean line against the smudged dirt. "I am tired. I just want..."
"What do you want?"
You.
Annie hung her head. "Sleep."
Armin smiled, but it was forced and weak. He was crying now, mutely, and although she questioned it, she was too fatigued to ask why.
(And because she already knew why)
"So sleep." He wrapped his arms around her, gentle and demanding all at the same time, and she allowed herself to succumb to his touch, closing her eyes and burying her face into his chest. More tears dripped down her face, clinging to her chin before falling off.
"Armin, I'm sorry."
I just want the weak who do get swept along with the flow to be considered human too.
"I know." He removed one of his hands from her, bringing it behind his back. "It's going to be okay, Annie. I'll take care of you now."
She cried harder, sobbed louder, blonde hair messed by her quaking.
The knife shook in his hands. "Everything will be okay."
He kissed her cold lips gently. As seconds turned to gradual minutes, he pressed harder into her face, feeling the taste of iron and salty tears. Blood trickled down his chin as Annie sank her teeth into his bottom lip, as she flailed against his grip like a floundering fish out of water. She was strong and weak at the same time, trembling and fighting as he smothered her.
Annie, why?
Armin, why?
Armin brought the knife down before his composure could slip. There would be no more struggle, no more hurt, no more remorse. The only sound she made was a faint gasp of pain, and then she went limp, breathing shallow. He shut his eyes, holding her and crying still, and did not part their lips until she stopped moving in his arms.
Now we're bound to linger on
We drink the fatal drop
Then love until we bleed
Then fall apart in parts
A/N: This was a struggle for me to write. I've been wanting to write an Annie/Armin fanfiction for quite some time (especially after reading macrauchenia's fanfictions of them; which are amazing, and I highly recommend you take the time to read/review, as well as check out her Youtube account) and I finally found the inspiration to do so. Well, not really. I kinda forced myself to sit down and write this one out. Writing has been unappealing for me for the past few days, (probably after re-reading through some one-shots I wrote and realizing that they were absolutely horrific) but I needed to write. Before I forget, the italics at the beginning and the end is the song Until We Bleed by Lykkee Li. Which I just so happened to get into after watching macrauchenia's youtube video about Armin and Annie. *coughs and smiles*
Reviews make me happy! I'd love to hear your input, good or bad, and please try to excuse any grammar mistakes I might have made.