Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).
Pairing(s): Eventual Annie/Armin. Experimental Annie/Hitch, side Hitch/Marlo.
Genre: Drama, Friends, Romance.
Timeline: In an Alternate Universe with College settings.
Summary: Annie doesn't care about Hitch's problem with her ex-boyfriend. And she definitely doesn't care about one Armin Arlert who's now being roped into one of Hitch's crazy ideas. Annie's not a good person—but she really doesn't want to see someone like Armin got hurt. Things eventually got complicated.

Author's Note: I'm tired but I love Annie/Armin and I've been wanting to try this AU out for quite some time? Haha I don't know what I'm doing.

Dedicated to the side of me that's secretly a hopeless romantic,
May I not be permanently lonely

Prologue

It has been a nice enough evening.

Rehearsal has ended early—unusually early, but who was she to complaint—and Annie had wasted no time hurrying herself back home. The thought of a nice, long shower against tensed muscle seems like an ideal goal for her to quicken her step, thinking foolishly that maybe if she has slowed down her pace, the rehearsal would be un-cancelled, and all of her glorious plan of having the apartment to herself for just a few hours would vanish into thin air.

But upon reaching the steps home, her cell doesn't ring to alarm her of such thing as the rehearsal being back on—and for that, Annie's silently glad. Punching the key in place and twisting the knob, the apartment is empty, as expected, and she thinks her stomach jumps in an awkward sense of relief to hear nothing but the sound of her own foot shuffling in, and her own movements echoing against the walls back to her.

It's been a while, she thinks, since she's come home to an empty apartment.

Without minding the mess—Hitch and her have never been hygienic, so some things tend to be left uncleaned—Annie's quick to peel off the thin fabric of clothing from her skin, shimmying herself out of the sweaty clothes. Tossing them simply into a laundry basket, she jumps under the shower head, breathing out a sigh of relief as she tilts her head backward, welcoming the calm pattern of the water now marking her face, easing all sorts of tension from her worked-out muscles.

It's been a long day, she thinks shortly, grabbing a handful of her lengthening hair and keeping it to one side, allowing the water more excess to exposed skin and Annie sighs again, appreciating the silence. She's in the shower for the next twenty minutes. She doesn't soap herself much—just stands there, thinks about stuff. Some about the movement she's to learn in the next few weeks, some even about what her father said and had made her promise; and her fingers numbly reach out to the few scars she receive from her rough childhood, thanking for a moment it's not anywhere where it's obvious—where it's anywhere anyone could see.

It'll be bad. Especially when it's expected for her to have the lead role for the next big recital.

And while it's pretty too see, they sure give the lead roles some complicated shit to wear. Exposed complicated shit, she means.

Deciding in the last three minutes that she actually has to get out of the shower, Annie sighs, finally manages to clean herself up and enjoys the last bit of moment of the warm water. Turning it off is when Annie finally hears it. Thundering of noises—not too loud, yet not too soft.

God, something in her falls. Hitch's home?

Wrapping a towel around the frame of her body, Annie turns the knob of the bathroom door, expecting to see Hitch talking over the phone about how much of a bitch her ex-boyfriend is for going around her back and having an actual life outside of her when all she's met with instead are another pair of light blue and foreign eyes—a small book sat in his long fingers, his mouth open while his pale cheeks begin to gather some unnatural crimson colour.

"Uh—"

"Oh Annie!" Hitch declares her presence from the kitchen, eyes wide before a smirk lurks on her nastily evil expression. "I thought you had another rehearsal today."

"It was cancelled," she argues while raising one hand to her wet hair—feeling kind of foolish with her hair down when faced with a stranger.

"Oh. Well, that makes sense, I guess. Any-hoo," the girl hoots, leaping herself nearer, "You must be wondering who is this obnoxiously cute stranger, right?"

Annie slides a quiet glare down Hitch's way. She knows how much Annie hates when she bring strangers home. God, they've talked about this! Well, it's more of her saying 'Don't be stupid and bring strangers home' and Hitch going on and on and about how she's paying half the rent and thus Annie doesn't have a full say on what she should or shouldn't do, which always brings back to Annie telling her that it's not Hitch who pays the rent—it's her mother—and that usually leads to a nastier of an argument, and she means—it's Annie's fault herself, you know? Only psychopaths dare to start a 'heated debate' with Hitch, because she's also conveniently one herself.

"I know who he is," Annie gives out dryly, keeping her eyes steady on her roommate instead of the boy—man?—guy. "Why is he here?"

"Wait," Hitch raises an eyebrow, "You do?"

The only male in the room presently also raises his brows, shocked most likely. "Y-you do?"

"Yes." She tries to sound as annoyed as she possibly could, just so they don't press for further questions. Still, his name—Armin Arlert—is recited quietly in her mind while her eyes slant even more sharply, trying her best to keep up on the agitated act. Which, really, isn't wholly an act. She is agitated, mind you. "Now, why?"

"Oh well, Armin here—" Hitch grins maddeningly, leaning down to knock a quick kiss on Armin's cheek, which, in return, only results to him blushing even more, eyes darting away in obvious embarrassment while Hitch squeals excitedly, like the whole world has stopped hurting each other now that Armin has come into their lives. She means—her life. Her. As in Hitch's. And not Annie's. Which was—yeah. You should get it. "He's now my boyfriend!" Hitch announces and Annie waits, think that if a needle were dropped, she'd hear it.

"Oh." She finally says, lamely.

End Note: Annie's a ballerina, by the way. I know it's confusing, but—I mean, if I ever decide to continue this—it'll be explained. Thanks for the read and may you all have a nice day!