"Hange said she'll fight Zackley to keep Ymir in school," Mikasa reports as she drinks her orange juice.
"Who is he again?" Eren asks.
"The head of the board," Armin reminds him. "Pixis wants her to stay, and so do all of the teachers, so it should be fine. Besides, they need to focus on covering for Erwin while he's out."
"Will he be able to come back?" Mikasa asks, swirling the juice and making a face. "Too sour," she explains.
It's been a week since the injury, and Ymir's supposed to start classes again today. She's been staying with Petra the past week, and Armin's sure Ymir has lots of stories from her time in the Sina apartments.
"Levi said Erwin's out of the hospital and back in the Sina apartments," Eren says. "Just… he might not be back at work for another week."
"That's it?" Annie demands, her eyes wide. "Good grief. If I lost a limb, I wouldn't ever come back."
"I guess he's really dedicated," Armin says, taking a bite of the cheese omelet on his tray. "I admire him. He really does seem like he cares about his students—he's always placing us first. It's amazing, really."
Annie smiles. "He reminds me of you."
"What?" Armin's face reddens.
"It's true," Eren confirms. "You're kind of like that. Just don't ever lose an arm, okay, because I don't want to have to spend my later years spoon-feeding you."
"Hey," Mikasa says quietly, nodding. Ymir walks into the cafeteria, dressed in her normal fraying jeans and a t-shirt, even though it's still way too cold for that. Historia walks beside her, practically skipping.
"Hey," Ymir says after she gets her tray. "Can I sit here?"
"Of course," Armin agrees, sliding over. Connie and Sasha get up from the table across from them.
"Do you hate me, Connie?" Ymir asks.
"What?" Connie's eyes widen. "Yes, Ymir, I hate you. That's why we're coming over to join you."
"That, and you got more bacon and I'm out and the workers look at me funny when I take fourths," Sasha chimes in, grabbing a piece from Ymir's tray.
"But you should hate me," Ymir presses.
"Why?" Connie scoffs. The omelet turns to a rock in Armin's stomach.
Stop hating yourself, Ymir! Stop sabotaging—
"Ymir, this is not what I meant when I suggested you just talk to Connie," Historia reprimands her. She takes Ymir's hand.
"About what?" Connie throws his hands in the air. Mikasa's eyes grow somber.
"Your mother," Ymir states. "You know I sold… don't you have a grudge against people like me?"
Annie leans forward, twisting her ring rapidly. Armin watches the silver turn and turn and turn. What's making you anxious?
"No," Connie says. "I don't hate you. I don't blame you at all, because—because it's like you're a victim too, right? You were trying to survive, most of the time. Why would I hate you for that? You're a bitch, but you're somehow likable anyways. Maybe it's the influence of your better half." He nods at Historia, who blushes.
"She is my better half," Ymir confirms, kissing Historia's forehead.
"Thank you, Connie," Historia says quietly.
"None of us blame Historia for her dad being cray," Sasha points out. Historia winces.
"You know what's weird?" she says, looking at Eren and Mikasa. "He still claims he had nothing to do with leaking your past."
Dammit. Armin sets his fork down.
It's definitely connected to whatever else has been going on, then, Armin realizes. The kidnapping attempt… Dr. Jaeger's murder.
Weeks plod by and Erwin returns, albeit for shorter days. Talk of firing him appears to be temporarily suspended on account of headlines reading "Heroic Dean Save Student and Loses Arm!" As for what will happen over the summer, Armin's not sure. Zackley might agree to keep Ymir around, but he doesn't seem any fonder of Erwin than Rod Reiss was.
Spring tries desperately to claw through, with a few warmer days followed by a snowstorm, and then more warm weather which melts the snow and turns the ground into mud. Jean mopes and Armin catches Bertolt crying hysterically one night.
"Do you want me to get Reiner?" Armin asks, shivering because the nights are still cold. But Bertolt huddles on the damp courtyard ground, crying into his knees.
"No," Bertolt snaps.
"Sorry," Armin stammers. Is this related to Reiner?
Are the two of you just best friends?
"I can't sleep," Bertolt mumbles. "Not tonight."
"So Reiner won't take photos of you in a bizarre position tonight?" Armin tries to joke. It falls flat.
"I can't do anything I want to do," Bertolt mumbles. "Not sleep… not do well in school—"
"Bertolt, you're like third in the class," Armin interrupts.
"It doesn't matter. It's not—enough."
"What are you talking about?" Armin sits down next to him, sneezing. Stupid allergies.
"I can't—I'm worried about Reiner and I can't—help him," Bertolt whispers. "Don't tell anyone I said that."
"Worried how?" Armin asks. He's noticed that the friendly boy seems more withdrawn lately, more serious.
"He's got family problems," Bertolt says quickly. "Don't we all. But—he's—they take a toll on him, and he won't admit it, and I feel like if I'm a good friend I should be able to help him, because he's helped me so many times, but I can't. I'm weak and—and not a good friend at all. I'm completely unreliable and—" He clutches his skull. "I just want someone to help us, please."
"Bertolt!" Armin grabs his shoulder. They might be sitting down, but Bertolt still towers over him. The other boy's agony churns in Armin's stomach. "You're not weak. You're not a bad friend."
"Yes, I am," he insists, looking at Armin with his face twisted in loathing.
You really hate yourself, Armin realizes. This isn't even about Reiner, not really. "Have you—would you talk to Petra?"
He shakes his head.
You don't trust anyone.
"I'll try to sleep now," Bertolt says, wrenching away. "Sorry—for bothering you, Armin. Thanks."
"Anytime." Armin watches Bertolt plod back to his room. "I mean it!" Bertolt doesn't turn around. Armin pulls out his phone and texts Annie.
Want me to come over? she responds right away.
It's midnight. Why are you awake? Armin responds.
Can't sleep. I'm near your dorm anyways.
Pacing?
Yup.
Okay then. But not for long. If Moblit catches us…
He's oblivious. Annie drops down from the corner of the roof moments later, and embraces Armin.
"I'm really worried about him," Armin says to her. "I've never seen Bertolt like that. He's usually so calm—but quiet." I should have been paying more attention.
"He does seem sad a lot," Annie comments.
"You think so?"
She nods. Something crinkles in her hoodie pocket, and Armin spices a plastic bag. Were you outside the gates?
Why? At this hour?
Armin does not like where his brain is trying to take him.
The next morning, Annie doesn't show up to breakfast. "She's got that stomach bug that's going around," Hitch explains.
"The one you had?" Marlowe gripes. "Because we all know that was just a hangover."
"The one Sasha had," Mikasa points out. "And hasn't recovered from." She nods to Sasha, sitting silently and poking at her food, which remains largely untouched.
"Hasn't it been two days?" Eren asks. "Wow."
Yikes. Armin hopes he doesn't get it. Although judging from all the kissing they did last night, he's probably already infected. Feel better! he texts.
At the very least, it gives him a chance to tear his mind away from the possibilities he doesn't want to consider.
Bertolt slouches through all their classes, and Armin can't keep himself focused. His heart pounds when he looks to a scowling, mopey Jean.
Annie…
You have no evidence, he reminds himself. Don't jump to conclusions.
But with the amount of times he caught her wandering around, sneaking off campus… suspicion embeds itself to Armin's spine, a rock he can't massage away.
"Armin?" Eren asks when the final bell rings. "Are you all right?"
"He's worried about his girlfriend," teases Reiner as he passes by, tossing a baseball in the air and catching it. He seems or less happy today. Armin wonders what Reiner would do if he knew about Bertolt's meltdown the night before.
"You don't have to worry long," Mikasa says. "I think she's feeling better." She nods at Annie, dressed in jeans and a hoodie and strolling towards them.
She looks pale, but okay. Armin leaps up. "How are you—"
"Better." Annie takes a seat. "Nanaba thought I should get some fresh air."
"We'll leave you two to talk," Eren says quickly. "Take care of her, Armin."
Mikasa nods in approval of Eren's words. They scurry away.
He can't do this now. Not when she's sick.
But the image of Marco sobbing that night in the hotel fills Armin's mind. "Want to go somewhere quiet?" he blurts out.
She looks bemused. "I don't have energy today."
"No, to talk."
"Oh." Annie frowns, twisting her ring. "Sure."
He leads her over to the tennis courts. Rainclouds form overhead, blocking the sun and the warmth. Armin shivers. Annie leans back against the stone wall lining the staircase down to the courts. She doesn't say anything.
She's nervous, Armin realizes.
Does she know that I think—suspect—no, dammit, I know?
It's not a lie, Armin realizes. It's not me being irrational.
And another part of him claws its way up—no! He won't believe it. She makes him feel useful, loved—she loves him. She can't—she's kind, she's a good person underneath it all—this can't be real.
Is it a situation like Ymir's?
"Annie, why were you outside the gates late night? In town?" Armin asks.
She frowns, seemingly caught off guard. Maybe that means she doesn't—and I am a fool. "Who says I was?"
"I saw the bag in your pocket."
"Oh. I wanted chocolate." Annie smirks. "And I like walking, when I can't sleep."
That's all? Armin blows out his breath. Just ask her. Be honest with her—she might hate you but you'll know, and if you're wrong, you can grovel for her forgiveness. "Annie—about Marco—"
"What about him?" Annie asks, flicking a pebble off the top of the wall. "Have Eren and Jean found anything?"
"No." Armin swallows. "I have a suspicion, though."
Annie turns to face him, her blond bangs swinging in front of her eyes. "And what's that?"
He can't speak. It's as if his jaw's wired shut. "I—"
"When did you start looking at me that way?" Annie asks, her voice catching. "You think I—"
"I—no! Not exactly—it's just—you have to admit it looks weird when you're leaving campus and lying about it—" And there was her reaction to Marco—crying hysterically like they all were, and then refusing to talk about it. "I should help Eren and Jean," Armin told her on the plane.
"Why bother?" she responded.
"Is it like Ymir?" Armin asks. "Are you being forced to—"
Annie throws her head back, a girlish laugh ripping from her lips. Nausea surges, and it's not from any potential stomach bug. "What would make you happier, Armin, to think I'm a useless, weak girl tricked into helping, or that I make my own choices?"
No no no no—please!
"How long have you been thinking this of me?" Tears glitter in her eyes.
"I—" The suspicion's always been there. "I couldn't believe it. I still don't. Annie—"
Annie twists and twists her ring. "You were the only person who ever said you thought I was a good person. Was that all some kind of—"
"No! Annie, please listen to me! I want to—"
"I'm glad you let me love you," Annie tells him, voice bitter. "I'm glad I could help you with that, Armin. Because you're smart and capable and you don't think you are, but you are. But I hope you're happy where it's gotten you. Congratulations on finally proving to yourself that you're useful." The words stream out of her, her eyes widening until she looks almost deranged.
"Annie," Armin croaks.
"You have no proof. Tell anyone and they'll laugh at you."
"Are you threatening me?" Armin demands.
She pushes past him, running towards her dorm.
Is it really you?
It is.
She didn't say the words, but she didn't have to. Who do I tell? Moblit? Levi?
I have no proof.
He isn't even certain he wants to find any.
Armin covers his face and curls up on the stairs, crying.
"Get up, sleepyhead!" Hitch sings.
Annie's eyes burn from crying so much, and her vision blurs. She pries the pillow away from her face.
Why haven't they come for me?
He just needs more time to come to terms with it, Annie thinks. She has no reason to think he suspects Bertolt or Reiner or Zeke, not yet, no reason to think he suspects she has anything to do with the kidnapping or what happened to the Jaegers. But he'll figure it out. He's smart.
Why do you have to be so smart, Armin?
She should go to Zeke, Reiner, Bertolt, warn them. But she can't. Zeke doesn't even know she and Armin are dating, unless one of the other teachers told him, but he seems pretty removed from their camaraderie.
Say they forced you. Like Ymir.
Ymir didn't do half the things we've done.
And for Ymir, it was her past. This is Annie's reality.
Her stomach surges and panic hits her, driving through her hands and fingers, feet and toes, like needles. What am I going to do?
She needs Armin, and he ruined it. She ruined it.
Annie drags herself to the cafeteria. The sun shines.
"Nice day!" Sasha says cheerfully.
"A huge storm's coming later in the week," Nanaba warns.
She has to be out of here by then. Annie can't stay.
The smell of coffee sours her stomach, and Annie can barely pick at the yogurt she gets. She sits in the corner, by herself. Armin sits with Eren and Mikasa, and he glances over at her, his eyes sad.
You haven't told yet.
But you will. Soon.
Stop trying to protect me, Armin! I don't deserve it. Annie leans over, tears clogging her throat. She pushes her yogurt away.
"Hey," says Sasha from above her. Annie cranes her neck.
Sasha and Connie slide across from her. "We're the stomach bug survival crew. Might as well stick together."
"I'm a supporter of the stomach bug survival crew," Connie says with a grin, shoveling oatmeal into his mouth. Annie can't stand the sight of the bland, mushy stuff, not right now.
Please don't puke. She pinches her hands, trying for an acupressure point. Not that she even believes in that, but it's worth a shot. Anything's worth a shot.
You're just denying reality again. What else is new?
"So," Sasha says timidly. "I assume you and Armin had a fight?"
Annie shrugs. "We broke up." Did we?
Yes. The words didn't need to be said.
"What?" Connie's jaw drops. "Geez. I mean, Armin pretty much refused to talk to anyone last night, but I didn't think—" He grimaces. "Yeah, Mikasa's glaring at you like you broke his heart."
I hate that I'm in love with you, she told him that night at the beach.
Because she knew she'd break his heart.
And it's way worse than you think, Connie.
Did he tell Mikasa? Annie jerks her head up. No, she doesn't think so. Not yet. But soon.
"I'm sorry," Sasha says sympathetically. "We won't say anything."
"We won't?" Connie asks.
"It's going to get out anyways," Annie says, voice clipped.
He looked at me like I was a bad person.
But no. The way he's looking back at her now—it's sad. Like he pities her.
Did you ever think you could be a good person? You have a fantasy self. You're deluded, as deluded as Reiner.
This is who you are.
She's scared it doesn't matter that she doesn't want to be her. She's more scared of that than anything else right now.
Armin, I need you. And she can't ask him to be there for her.
You deserve this, you stupid skank.
Annie dumps her yogurt and drags herself to class, lagging behind everyone. She throws up in the bushes as the late bell rings, dirt and mulch clinging to her palms. Levi is going to kill her for being tardy.
It doesn't even matter. Why do you still care?
She deliberately avoids Armin all day, spending lunchtime hiding outside by herself with plain rice. She gets it down, and it sits fine.
Stop pretending.
Face reality.
I'll do it, Annie decides, as she sits in the back of literature class with Ymir and Historia. I just need to know.
"Are you okay, Annie?" Petra inquires during art class, the last of the day. Annie's been staring at a mostly blank page for the hour.
She shrugs.
"If you ever want to talk…" Petra begins, but Annie shakes her head.
The moment the last bell rings, Annie dashes out of Hange's class and to her dorm. Nanaba signs a pass for her to leave, and she carries the pink slip of paper in her hand. See, Armin? I have permission.
Tears sting. If this situation turns out exactly like she thinks it will… fuck.
I'm more of a screw-up than I thought.
Her hands shake as she crosses the street. She digs her fingertips into her ring as she grinds it around her finger. When she reaches the pharmacy, she wraps her arms around herself, face burning. It's as if everyone knows why she's here, what she's after.
Annie hurries down the aisles, glancing up at the hanging signs to find the right one. When she finds what she's looking for, she grabs the cheapest option and darts towards the self-checkout registers.
Dammit. A line. Only three people long, but Annie clutches the box to her chest. Her heart thuds, pulse reverberating in her ears. Her head swims.
"Annie!"
Fuck.
Her limbs petrify, as if they're encased. She stars at the ugly carpet under her feet, gray and wannabe green and fake blue.
"Those anti-nausea medicines the nurse gave you aren't working well enough, huh?" Jean holds out one hand, the other clutching a bag of candy. "Stay back. I don't want to get it."
"Mm." One person finishes. The line shortens to two.
"I never thought I'd see Sasha turn down food, you know—oh my God."
Oh my God why can't I have any luck? She could cry.
His eyes bug, and his mouth hangs open. "Annie—"
Forget this. Annie steps out of line, grabbing Jean's elbow and dragging him back towards the groceries aisle, which mostly consists of preservatives masquerading as ramen. "If you tell anyone, and I mean a single soul, I will murder you, and I will make it hurt."
Jean's face pales, eyes darting towards the test in her hands and to her face. "For real?"
She pushes him away, blinking back tears.
"You should tell Armin—"
"Oh, and you know what I should do?" Annie snaps. "Stay out of my business."
"I won't tell anyone," Jean promises gravely. "But, Annie—can I do anything? Do you need help?"
She shakes her head, unable to speak. What am I going to do?
If it's positive, it's really over. Everything.
"Armin would help you… I mean, I know you've been fighting lately, but I also know you definitely haven't told him, because he would be obsessively by your side if he knew." Jeans' face melts into a kind of shock.
"Why do you care what happens to me or what I do, Jean?" Annie manages.
Jean shrugs. "I don't—know. I don't know. But—Annie—"
"I'm checking out now," she says. "I mean it. Don't tell anyone."
"I won't."
She hopes she can trust him. Of all people, why him? She supposes it's better than Armin. Because he would obsessively hover at her side, and she wants that so badly. She wants his hand in hers, wants him to cry with her, tell her the names she's been calling herself the past month as she waited and waited aren't true, that she's not stupid, she's not a screw-up, she's not hopeless.
But it's not fair to him. He's finally free of her, her and her bad influence, and she doesn't want him to be sucked back in. He wouldn't turn her in, if he knew. Not that he can anyways, without proof. Annie reminds herself of that.
She doesn't care. He deserves to follow the truth, like he always does. It's your choice, Armin.
Jean accompanies her on the walk back to Wall Academy without her permission, but at least he doesn't speak. Annie's lost in her own panic.
"Good luck," Jean tells her when they split at the gate, Jean to head back to his dorm, Annie to hers.
"Thanks," she says, voice wobbling.
Thankfully Hitch isn't here, and neither are Mina or Hannah. Annie locks herself in the bathroom. As she waits, she cries into her hands. I miss you, Armin.
I need you.
I'm so scared.
When her timer goes off after three minutes, Annie peeks out through her fingers.
Two pink stripes.
Positive.
Thanks for reading! Up next: Annie's attempts to keep things a secret don't go as planned.