"I still can't believe you threw that shoe at Jean," Armin giggled, tripping over the step of the corner shop as they exited with their drinks.
Eren's reply was just one word, as he seemed more preoccupied with sating his thirst with a drink Armin had never come across before. It looked like ice tea, except it was green. Douchebag.
Hanging out (as Eren had called it) with Eren was certainly something special. He'd yet to broach the subject of Mikasa's absence, but maybe it was because Eren acted differently when Mikasa was around that Armin was somewhat avoiding the subject anyway.
"I… I'm sorry about him, y'know. I-It probably… You probably wouldn't like me saying, but he's not terrible. He just doesn't like things that don't fit."
Of course, it was natural that a brother and sister (they were that until Armin worked out if Mikasa really was romantically interested in Eren) would act differently around each other than with someone they'd only known for a few days, but Armin couldn't help thinking there was more to it. Mikasa, for one, was far too attentive, to the point of obsession. Was it suffocating Eren, or was he loath to stand his own ground when he had someone who would willingly do it for him? Was Mikasa just perpetuating his problems?
No, Armin shook his head, that wasn't it. While Eren didn't seem to show any contempt for Mikasa or her mothering to her face, Eren clearly felt he could manage on his own, starting fights and remaining independent in class. But then he'd been so frantic to ring Mikasa when he found out that she wasn't to join him and Armin: it didn't match up.
Armin didn't realised how much he'd drifted off into his own thoughts until Eren shoved his pad of paper obnoxiously under Armin's nose. You're probably right, but there's no way I'm going to know that if he continues to be such a horsefaced git. And then, added underneath, he'd written, What are you shaking your head about?
He decided to be honest. "Mikasa," he admitted, and Eren's expression changed to one Armin wasn't really sure what to make of. His brows furrowed, which with any other person would indicate anger or concern, but on Eren seemed merely his natural expression. Not to mention, there was little emotion in his eyes at that point- not that Armin got much of a chance to look, as Eren suddenly became very interested in the wrapper of his bottle of weird cold tea.
"Do you not like her?" Armin knew as soon as the words left his mouth that they were the wrong ones, yet Eren didn't look as hurt as Armin would have expected. All the same, he felt bad. In fact, seeing Eren's expression die as it did after he'd spent so long giving Armin those beautiful content smiles since they'd left the Gymnasium only served to deepen Armin's guilt. "I-I'm sorry, I… It doesn't matter. That was rude." His hair fell in front of his eyes, and he was glad that it did, because he didn't want to see the look Eren gave him.
Except Eren wasn't beside him. Eren was three metres ahead of him, edging around a group of tourists. Armin almost thought he was leaving him, until a few seconds later, when he saw him notice Armin's absence and look around frantically. In fact, it was more than frantic. Armin had never considered it possible to look so horrifyingly full of dread before, but then, he'd never seen someone have a panic attack.
Armin would later learn that what he did next was just about the right thing. However, in the seconds following the moment when Eren stopped in his tracks, and the full weight of the darkening sky seemed to fall visibly on his head, Armin had no idea what to do. In fact, his first thought was spent wishing Mikasa were there. For this, he scolded himself. He then, slowly but surely, gathered his senses and approached Eren where he was now effectively frozen in the middle of the bustling street.
"Um… Eren? Eren, you're OK." It felt good saying Eren's name: it was a reassurance, a secret pact of acquaintance between the pair. That said, there was something wholly unnerving about the way Eren looked at Armin, not registering him at all. His notebook was limp in his hands, and Armin noticed he's started writing something, but it was illegible. "Eren? It's me, Armin, Eren. Umm… I… I think we should get out of here. I… I'm going to take your hand."
Armin began to panic when Eren stopped noticing what Armin was telling him. He kept looking straight ahead, forehead creased with worry but eyes not seeing, not registering anything but thin air. People were watching. People were everywhere.
Eren looked sweaty, but when Armin finally mustered up the courage to take his hand, it was clammy and cold, as if he'd died.
Once Armin had a firm hold of the one hand he would have considered it so incredibly romantic to hold, it was like something clicked, and suddenly he was the reliable, top grades Armin Arlert, all composure and neat hair. He knew exactly what his aim was as he guided Eren gently through the crowd, reassuring him every step. It was an Armin many people had probably once known, until the boy had quietly slipped with stress and loneliness during puberty and became an altogether different person by the time he found himself taking his Abitur.
It was only once they found themselves in front of the Brandenburg Gate, with its slowly easing number of mild-mannered tourists and yellow glow in the dusk, that Armin and Eren found themselves calming down. For a few minutes, Eren sat at the bottom of a pillar, drinking in the cool air deeply as if he'd been starved of it for a long, long time. He sated his thirst in large gulps that momentarily made Armin wonder if he'd end up with an unconscious boy on his hands; alas, after about a minute, the twinkle seemed to reappear in Eren's eyes and he looked up quietly at the gate.
Armin was used to being invisible. If one didn't make a point for long enough, it was easy for an individual to become inconsequential: doubly so in the overwhelming whirlpool of the education system. In a way, Armin liked this. Or at least, the selfish part of him did: the part that secretly looked down on the world as a self-preservation mechanism, the part that liked to be alone in the library, just working. Yet as he watched Eren admire the way the lights shone on the majestic statues that reared over the Gate's entrance, he questioned his own thinking and premonitions about the world. Was it society's folly that one could so easily fall through the gaps, often not even to the benefit of the many? It physically hurt for Armin to try to conceive a world wherein someone was not there for Eren when he became like this.
I'm sorry.
"NO!" Armin shouted, and Eren jumped. There was a moment of misunderstanding, in which Eren looked ready to arch his defense, squaring his shoulders at the other boy, but his actions quickly reversed when he saw Armin rub tears from his eyes.
Of course, Armin cursed internally, of course he was crying again.
"I… I… Um… No. I…" He took a second, inhaling, breathing the same air Eren had drank so thirstily. A deviant part of his brain found itself asking if Eren would drink the air from his mouth, putting his cool hands on his flushed face and leaving him breathless, but Armin remained externally unscathed by this thought. "Eren, please don't be sorry. That's the absolute last thing I want you to be, please…"
Yet, of course there was a world where someone wasn't there for Eren. No amount of naivety could obscure that thought from Armin, no matter how much he arrogantly he tried to rationalise Eren. While nothing may have caused Eren's mutism or social anxiety, something had perpetuated them, and something had driven him to want to hurt himself, to want to kill himself.
This revelation hurt. He wasn't sure why it should, being that it wasn't him who was currently had bandages wrapped around his tender wrists, but it did. It physically hurt.
Armin could see Eren struggling on what to write to make Armin feel better. Once again, guilt overflowed in his mind, and all of a sudden he was bubbling with self-loathing, wishing he wasn't such a burden on people and that he could just somehow help Eren without making everything about him.
He wasn't sure how much it had taken for Eren to muster up the courage to embrace Armin, but it couldn't have been too far outside the stubborn teenager's scope, as once he'd looped his arms around Armin and rested his chin on Armin's shoulder, he seemed to acquaint himself with the shape of Armin's body, his form loosening of its former anxiety. They stayed stood there for quite a while, in fact. Armin wondered if it were possible for him to be even more anxious than Eren, as he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and feared Eren could feel it.
Eren didn't smell of much. He was clean, and if Armin had been bold enough to draw his hands through Eren's scruffy hair, he would have found it soft and smelling faintly of Mikasa's shampoo. There was, however, no odour of cologne or deodorant (Jean had always smelt of a certain expensive smelling perfume), just a soft, homely sense about the boy, with his own smell faint behind the fabric of his jumper.
He didn't notice Eren open his mouth three times, trying to say something but each time failing. And, alas, when the moment passed and they broke apart, whatever Eren had wanted to say was no longer appropriate, or was in some way lost, and Armin never knew.
They ended up sitting beneath the pillar for quite a while, letting night fall around the like it always did; except, this evening, it was quiet and noticed by the pair, who watched the clouds turn pink, purple and the sky slowly fading to a light-polluted black over the skyline of the city.
Armin was glad he'd bought his jacket again by 6, pulling it around him subtly so Eren wouldn't notice him starting to feel the cold. He was distracted by the lights of the gate, finding in them unmatched wonder. Armin wanted to admire the way he looked at them, his eyes twinkling, his dark skin a warm hue, his soft lips slightly parted but still, miles away from the frantic inhaling of twenty minutes previously. On the notebook beside him, the only thing written, in relatively small letters at the top of the page, was his small apology, and beneath, a frustrated scribble on which he'd pressed down so hard on the page that he'd made a little tear, the dried biro glistening slightly in the dim light.
"Um… Do you like history, then?"
Eren frowned.
Modern history only, ancient history is boring.
"What… Wait… You… We took that busy street because you wanted to come here, didn't you?" Eren didn't need to reply; his expression told Armin everything. If it weren't for the fact that Eren's panic attack had been terrifying for both of them, it seemed quite heroic, really. "Why the Brandenburg Gate? I-If you don't mind me asking. W-Wait, it has to do with modern history, I get that…"
My family is East German. They don't talk about it, but I think if I understood history more then maybe… He stopped writing, looked at Armin, and then scribbled out the last bit, replacing it with I'm not really smart like you so I don't get much in school, but stuff about the Wall is really interesting. So I like coming here and remembering all that doesn't exist anymore.
"So do you come here a lot then?"
Eren stretched out his legs, scowling at his feet, before shaking his head.
Something about the way Eren acted inclined Armin not to pursue the conversation any further. He supposed if Eren had that kind of reaction to crowds, he'd probably be inclined to avoid tourist hot-spots such as this: but then, there seemed to be something missing. It was true, he was interested in modern history, the enthusiasm had been clear from all the way at the back of class, but what did this all have to do with his family being East German? Armin was under the impression it didn't really matter these days- kids being born these days had parents who were born after the Wall fell, so it was becoming less and less relevant, even to older children like Eren.
After a few minutes of what felt like tense silence, Eren got to his feet, stretching his arms out like an awkward cat before turning to Armin and offering him a hand up. Armin accepted, blushing, but calmed down once again when he was told I'll walk you back.
They didn't hold hands after that. It wasn't necessary, of course. Armin had kept an eye on Eren to begin with, but he began to see the rising irritation in Eren's expression, and stopped, choosing to look quietly down at his own feet instead. He felt as if he'd screwed up somehow- he'd been doing so well in getting to know Eren, and suddenly it was as if Eren had frozen him out, becoming the silent, scowling boy the rest of the world knew him as. It was selfish to wonder if Mikasa would be annoyed at having sent him back in a despondent state, having made no progress in helping him in whatever way he was supposed to be helping him; yet that was the first thing he thought about as Eren bade him goodbye absent-mindedly, not looking Armin in the eye.
Even if it was too dark to see far enough in the cold evening air, Armin didn't stay long enough on the porch of his apartment block to see Eren turn back to look at him at the end of the street. Indeed, nor did Armin notice Eren taking the wrong turning, wandering away from his own apartment block with is hands stuffed deep into his pockets and his face obscured by the shadow of his hood.
(When I used the word "homely" to describe the way Armin finds Eren's smell, I of course mean that Eren has his own natural scent like everyone one else, but I also wanted to use the German word "heimlich"- which means "homely", but is also the opposite of "unheimlich", the German originally used by Freud to talk about what we refer to as the "uncanny". Unfortunately, y'all would have Google Translated it which gives you the wrong meaning.
Freud, while his work is sexist trash, is worth studying (literature-wise only) if you take his work as a single analysis and apply it as a metaphor, eg, penis envy in literature, but supplementing the word "penis" in his theory with "power" and essentially finding yourself with a feminist critique that gives insight on how a character might act for a certain reason. Freud you should perhaps think about if you want to know where this is going. Also the Berlin Wall. Which is a metaphor for the SNK canon, yes, but I also really like German history... Plus, insight into Eren/Mikasa's motivations yeaaaahhhh)