6:11 PM

"Ugh, what the hell."

Armin didn't know how long he'd been sitting there on the bedroom floor, trying to unzip an old black backpack of his from high school (it wasn't damaged nor too terribly worn out, so he decided to keep it for travelling and overnight events). The zipper kept getting caught in the rough fabric and his bony fingers shook too much to untangle it. So there he sat, his heart pumping, his hands shaking, his vision going blurry with suspicion and fear.

Annie eventually came over, crouched down, and undid the mess he created, swiftly and silently, just like with everything else she did. Armin huffed but thanked her. She stood back up and paused before brushing the back of her finger across his cheekbone and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, her attempt at comforting him. She walked away and he wished she hadn't.

"You okay?" he heard her mumble as she shrugged into an oversized hoodie. It wasn't a question; she knew that he wasn't and this was her way of opening up this can of worms.

He got up from the floor and opened the closet beside him. He threw a pair of jeans and two shirts in the backpack, not really paying attention to what exactly he was throwing in there.

"I don't feel great about this whole idea," he muttered into the closet, his vision going blurry again. He thought about Eren and the past year, everything that happened, everything he saw and felt. What was etched into the back of his mind like an ancient cave drawing, however, was that cardboard box he found underneath Eren's bed. He remembered fishing through it and feeling a sense of dread wash over him as if a bucket of icy cold water poured over his head. It was so horrible; he never felt anything like it before.

"We don't have to go, you know," Annie said matter-of-factly. "If you're this worried about it—"

"No."

He looked back at her. She was standing by the window with her arms crossed and her weight balanced on one foot. It was clear that she was set to drop everything and forget that text Eren sent out in the group chat and, as much as Armin wanted to do the same thing, he couldn't bring himself to.

"We have to go. We just have to."

He set his backpack on the bed and zipped it back up (which worked the first time around). "You think something's gonna happen?" Annie prompted. Again, she knew Armin's skepticisms; she wanted him to say it aloud as if the situation at hand would become more real if he did that.

"I don't think this friendly little gathering is going to turn up well."

And then it worked. Saying his worries aloud made them real, accurate, a good reason to panic. With wide eyes, he stared into space and muttered under his breath, "I think Eren might do something. I think Mikasa won't stop him—she knows it's wrong, but she's too blind to see another way. I think if we don't go, something will go terribly wrong. We have to go."

His eyes shot up toward Annie's, but instead of seeing her sky-blue orbs, he saw that box underneath Eren's bed.

He hurried toward her and grabbed her shoulders. "You have to stay right next to me the entire time," he said in a low panic as if Eren himself were in the room. "Alright? You don't go too far without me by your side."

It was moments like this when Annie was vastly different from Mikasa. They were similar in many ways: they were expressionless most of the time, physically capable of bringing down men twice their size, they didn't speak often, they didn't really care for authority. But Mikasa would bend over backwards to please Eren and Armin. On the rare occasion when Armin told Annie to do or not do something without him nearby, she got pissed and usually deliberately disobeyed him. She hated being told what to do and, if she thought he deserved it, would let Armin suffer the consequences of his own actions. Maybe that was why he first became attracted to her—Mikasa was his friend, but she was also a suffocator. Annie gave him so much freedom and space that he didn't know what to do with all of it.

As expected, she narrowed her eyes at him. She also knew she could handle herself just fine and didn't want anyone hovering over everything she did. A shaky sigh escaped him as he tenderly placed his hands on either side of her face.

"Please, Annie. I know you don't like it, but I need you to promise me this. I would blame myself if anything happened to you this weekend. We don't know exactly what Eren will do; he—he could do anything. You know what he's capable of." His eyes began to burn, and his voice started to crack. "Please, please, please don't leave my side. I don't want you to get hurt."

Her hard gaze began to slowly melt like an icy road on a sunny day. She exhaled heavily as she slowly ran her hand up and down his arm, her gentle touch easing the goosebumps rising on his limb. She stared at him longer, her own gears cranking away in her mind.

"I promise," she finally whispered.

A huge weight lifted from his shoulders and he sighed in relief at the sensation. He kissed her lips, her chin, her nose, and her forehead, leaving breathy "Thank you"s on her skin as he did so. He hugged her tightly, swaying from side to side. He felt a hesitant hand on his shoulder blade.

"But I'm going to bring a gun," she added.

The weight settled on his back again. He leaned back, his hands gripping Annie's elbows. "A gun?"

She nodded.

"W-Why? What kind of gun?"

Her eyes glanced to the side. "Probably that pistol I keep in the dresser."

He knew what she was talking about. In the last drawer on the right underneath a grey beanie, black gloves, and a dark blue scarf was an unloaded pistol with a small box of bullets tucked in right beside it. Annie got it shortly after she joined the police academy about a year ago. There were several exercises she had to do that involved guns: knowing different types, how to use them, what to do if someone else had one. She said she preferred using pistols because they were easier to use and were small enough to hide away. Armin didn't like the idea of keeping a gun in the house but knew why Annie insisted on it.

She looked back at him. "You're convinced Eren's going to do something, right?"

He didn't answer her.

"Then what's stopping us from being prepared for it? I won't use it until he actually does something, but it's better to be safe than sorry in this case." She frowned. "I don't have a good feeling about this either, so we can't just walk in there empty-handed, knowing that something's going to happen. We have to be ready for it."

She was right. It made perfect sense, and most would bring some sort of weapon to a fight they knew was inevitable. But it still didn't stop Armin's gut from twisting at the thought of it all.

"But…a gun?" he whimpered.

She rolled her eyes. "How about my hunting knife? The one with the red handle?"

He grimaced.

"Armin, it's either the gun or the knife. Your choice."

He let go of her arms and ran his hands through his hair, gripping his head to keep it from exploding. Okay, fine, he lectured himself. What would be less noticeable? Cause less noise? Less dangerous? This is something I'd never thought I'd have to think about.

His gaze met Annie's impatient one. He stalled for as long as he could before mumbling out, "The knife."

Without another word, she brushed pass him and exited the bedroom. He stared at the vacant doorway until she came back. She flicked open the knife—which was about half a foot long and void of any stains made from the occasional hunting trips she'd take with Reiner and Berthold—and closed it back up. She shoved it in her back pocket and then adjusted her baggy hoodie over it, so that it was less obvious that she had a knife on her.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were calm, level, focused. She nodded once, saying Everything's going to be okay. He swallowed and nodded back but didn't say anything more. He trusted her, definitely, but weapons in general made him uneasy. Yet, if anyone should have one on them for whatever reason, he'd be the most comfortable with Annie. She was training to be a police officer, after all-more specifically to be a part of the Criminal Investigation Unit, where she could investigate crime scenes and find missing persons. Although one couldn't really see it, she was passionate about her work and fought through it until the end. He admired her for going after her dream; he was happy to be a part of it too.

Armin was going for a PhD in history (military history to be exact) and, with their conflicting schedules, it could be difficult to see one another, much less actually do something together. Armin had a full time job at the local library while balancing a full time schedule at school; Annie's schedule was supposed to be consistent like Armin's but sometimes exercises ran longer or she stayed behind to get more work done, never really a fan of bringing it home to do it. They both excelled in doing what they did, however-Armin was to be a teaching assistant in the spring and Annie was at the top of her class, job opportunities constantly knocking on their front door.

Long story short, Armin much preferred sitting at a desk and learning about weapons rather than actually using them while Annie liked being in the moment of it all, moving around and getting things done. Armin knew he could trust Annie with the knife and that she'd only use it when necessary. She was trained on how to win a battle and he was trained on how to stop a war.

He was painfully aware of the knife stuck in Annie's pocket as they strolled through the old cabin door.

The many cars crowding outside and the loud laughter coming from the wooden structure told them that Armin and Annie were the last ones to arrive. Annie walked ahead of him and gave his hand a little squeeze before opening the door. Historia and Ymir were seated on the couch on the other side of the room, red solo cups in their hands as they smiled and pecked at each other's cheeks. Connie was watching Jean, Marco, and Sasha play a card game, although he was much more interested in the corn dog in his mouth. Reiner rounded a corner—he had a tray of some dark treats in his hands and set them down on the coffee table in front of the card players. Out of the corner of his eye, Armin saw Berthold with giant green gloves on his hands, closing the oven door and then turning to something boiling on the stove.

"Hey, everyone!" Armin called out into the room, waving a hand in the air. He tried to swallow down the nervousness in his tone and plastered on a smile.

A low but loud "Heyyy" came from Sasha, Marco, and Jean, clearly more invested in their fast-moving game. Connie peeked up and waved his half-eaten corn dog in the air. "Hey, guys!" Berthold called from the kitchen. Reiner also looked up and cracked a grin.

"Hey, blondies!" he called. "It's about time you showed up. I was wondering how long it was gonna take for Annie's boner to pop."

"Shut the hell up, Reiner," Annie growled, making her way towards him as if she were preparing to beat him up.

Berthold, coming out of nowhere, jumped in front of them. "Hey, Annie! How are you doing?" he said a little too cheerfully, hugging her tiny form, probably worried about the same thing.

Annie stood there, letting Berthold hold her with his big green oven mitts while Reiner wiggled his eyebrows at her over his shoulder. She moved subtly but swiftly, and the next thing Armin knew, Reiner's eyes widened in pain as he hopped around, gripping his left foot.

Armin inched forward after dropping his bag by the others cluttered around the front door. He scratched the back of his neck and asked out into the open, "Uh, has anybody seen Eren?"

"Out!" Marco yelled suddenly, slamming his final blow onto the growing pile of cards on the coffee table.

Sasha groaned in frustration as she sank into her seat, muttering about Marco's magical ability to win every game ever.

Armin then spotted the familiar head of messy brown locks poke out from around the corner. A wide smile spread across his face as he jogged over to him, a soda in his hand.

"There you are, Armin!" Eren said through his smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You're late. Everything alright?"

Armin conjured every little ounce of courage from within and smiled back. "Hi, Eren. No, yeah, everything's great. I just forgot my phone at home, so we had to turn around."

"Oh, okay, gotcha. I know it's been, like, a week since I last saw you, but I'm glad you and Annie were able to come. It means a lot."

"No problem. You know we're here for you."

"Yeah, I know. Still, thanks for everything."

As Eren's hand slipped from his shoulder, Armin looked at the seemingly genuine smile that graced his lips. God, he never wanted to be wrong so bad in his life. Hopefully this was some huge misunderstanding and Armin was freaking out over nothing; maybe Eren really just wanted his friends around, to share some jokes and exchange some drinks. After all, he was looking at him right now just like how he always had—his vibrant green eyes sparkled in interest and his thin lips were tilted crookedly like he had something snarky to say. Eren couldn't have done any of those things, right? He was so invested in his and Mikasa's well-being and he cared deeply for his friends. He wasn't like that at all.

But what about that box?

"Hi, Armin."

He recognized the quiet tone Mikasa possessed and saw her silky black hair come into view. A small smile cracked her porcelain skin as she squeezed his arm. He noticed right away that her grasp on him wasn't light or hesitant like it usually was. Instead, it was tight and it kind of hurt. It was like that time when Armin went on a trip to Berlin for a study abroad program and he was telling Eren and Mikasa goodbye. Mikasa's hold on him was long and very painful as if she were afraid it was the last time she'd ever see him.

"Hey, Mikasa," Armin breathed through the tense grasp.

"Are you hungry? We made some food earlier."

"Uh, maybe later. Annie and I had dinner not too long ago."

"Where were you? We were beginning to worry."

"It's fine. I just…"

He suddenly felt claustrophobic. Mikasa was leaning toward him like the concerned mother bear she was and Eren wouldn't stop staring at him. He swallowed, trying to keep it all together, his heart thumping against his chest like a jackhammer.

Just then did a familiar pair of arms wrap around his stomach and a comforting presence lean against his spine, her pointy chin digging into his shoulder blade. He exhaled deeply and patted Annie's hands, thankful for her promise and her calm aura.

"We just forgot something halfway is all," he finished.

He caught Mikasa's gaze drift to the side and then take a hesitant step back. Despite the intimidating circumstances, Armin smirked, imaging the death glare Annie was sending over his shoulder right now.

"Hey, Annie," Eren greeted. "What's up? Beat anyone up at the police academy yet?"

"Only in my dreams," she mumbled into Armin's jacket.

Eren chuckled. He then pushed the soda can he was holding into Armin's hand.

"Here, hold this. I'll be right back."

He disappeared around the corner again but was quick to return. He carried a large red bowl in his hands. Buttery popcorn was filled to the brim; he offered it to Annie specifically.

"I made some popcorn if you'd like some. Armin told me once that you ate, like, a huge bucket of the stuff by yourself when you guys saw a movie together."

A sudden and very sharp pain shot through Armin's stomach as Annie's arms tightened significantly around his waist. He gasped and tried prying her fingers apart, wiggling like a helpless maggot in her grasp.

"Shit, Annie, stop," he pleaded in a strangled whisper. It was like stabbing a handful of needles into his sides.

She finally let him go and he stumbled forward, nearly knocking into Mikasa along the way. He caught her throwing a nasty glare Annie's way, but he didn't have enough air in his lungs to tell her that he was fine.

"No, thanks," Annie muttered, stuffing her hands into her hoodie pocket as if she didn't just try to squeeze the life out of her boyfriend.

Eren snorted at her monotone answer but shrugged it off. "Whatever, your loss. I know Sasha will openly pig out on the stuff anyway."

He spun around and then raised the bowl over his head. "Hey, Sash! Want some popcorn?"

Sasha halted from slapping a card down onto the coffee table and raised her arms over her head as well. "You know I'm a slut for popcorn!"

Eren moved pass Reiner and Berthold (who were now sitting on the couch, munching on Reiner's brownies) and gave the bowl to Sasha. She immediately went to town with it, grabbing it by the handful and shoving it down her throat as she continued shifting through her cards, Connie constantly peeking over her shoulder and breaking Sasha's poker face for her. Mikasa then followed Eren into the living room to sit down in one of the surrounding bean bags. "So," Eren asked nonchalantly, "who brought the weed?"

"Shit, can you still smell it?" Connie whined as he started rubbing his shirt together as if that would get rid of the stench.

Armin rubbed his stomach and looked at Annie. She gave him a side glance and mumbled in an incredibly low voice that he had to strain his neck forward in order to hear her: "Don't eat anything here unless it's sealed."

He peered down at the opened soda can in his hand. He tried not to look at that giant bowl of popcorn Sasha was munching on as he carefully set the can on a nearby mantel. He inhaled, paused, and then exhaled.

Here it goes.