Chapter Two: Dreamer

He'd been feeling her watch him walk home every day for quite some time now.

The stare that lingered over him wasn't necessarily bad—he didn't feel threatened. It wasn't that kind of stare that bore into the back of your head, the kind that wished for nothing but your absolute failure. Instead, this stare felt curious, maybe even a little bit concerning at times. Almost like an angel was watching him.

Sometimes he was lucky and would sneak a peek at his…stalker? Watcher? Bystander? He wasn't sure what the proper word was. He always saw a small, huddled form sitting in that empty alleyway across from the Springer Café. He never caught a good look at her face but knew she usually wore a dirty white sweatshirt and ripped up jeans. His chest would constantly knot up whenever he looked away from her, his pity swimming over to her in crashing waves. Homeless people usually walked around the entire city, begging for money or whatnot. But not this one. She always stayed there and never asked anyone for anything. How strange.

Armin's eyes adverted from the shivering girl guiltily as he, Eren, and Mikasa exited the small café. He gave a small wave toward the duo before making his way into the Rose Library. The all-too-familiar feel of warmth spread over his body as he stepped into the quiet library. A smile curled up upon his lips when he came within Miss Ral's line of vision. She returned the friendly gesture.

"Why, Mr. Arlert!" she greeted in a hushed tone when he came to a stop at the spotless counter. "Nice to see you again! It's been a full twenty-four hours since I saw you last! How's life been to you?"

"Hello, Miss Ral—"

A dramatic sigh escaped from her tiny pink lips. "How many times must I tell you, Armin? You can call me Petra! We've been seeing each other ever since you went into Rose University two years ago. I think we're at that stage where we can call each other by their first name now."

Armin chuckled lowly, his smile spreading even more. "Sorry. I'm still working on that lab report for Miss Zoe."

"The one where you have to write your opinion on the treatments of schizophrenia patients in the 1950s compared to present time?"

"That's the one."

Petra giggled. "Boy, that's a mouthful." She then reached under her desk and pulled out three different books. "I saved these from yesterday. Figured you'd want them again."

His arms automatically reached for the heavy textbooks that contained knowledge of the human brain, different mental illnesses, and all sorts of different treatments. "Yes. Thank you very much."

"Miss Zoe is starting to take you under her wing sounds like. She's a tough teacher and you're the only one I know that gets A's on all her reports and tests and all that jazz."

Armin shrugged. "She's a little…complex, I agree, but she teaches in such an enthusiastic way that it's hard to not pay attention."

"Well…she's awfully cheerful about her work so I guess that's a good thing." There was a moment of hesitation in Petra's eyes, almost like she was expecting the energetic professor to pop out and give a lecture on Erikson's stages of development.

The blond laughed to himself and started to head in the opposite direction, to where both empty and occupied tables sat. "Thanks again, Miss Ra—I mean, Petra!"

"Not a problem, Armin." She wiggled her fingers at him and proceeded to type away at her computer.

Armin was able to find a round table near the center of the room and sat his things down. He planted himself at a chair, cleared his throat, and flipped open the first textbook.

It was true, Miss Hanji Zoe had grown a liking to Armin and his brilliant brain. She would give him her theories on particular cases of mental illness studies and other fields of sciences. She complimented him, saying he was blessed with such a gift as his fast-learning skills and memory storage and careful attention to detail. She was absolutely thrilled to discover that he wanted to become a professor of some sorts though he wasn't sure which field he wished to teach others. So, of course, Miss Zoe encouraged him to go into psychology, the same as her.

When Armin told his best friends this, they were both as equally as reassuring. "You'll do great in anything," Eren told him. "Your brain is big enough for the both of us."

"That wouldn't be the case if you paid attention to your studies, Eren," Mikasa told Eren firmly, though with a hint of gentleness.

"You're not my mom, Mikasa!"

The usually stoic girl would turn to Armin with a small but all the while hopeful smile. "Do whatever you want to do. We'll stick with you and your decisions, no matter what."

Armin grinned at the heartwarming words.

Although he wasn't sure on what career he wanted for himself, he did know one thing he wanted to do: to travel the world.

It had been a childhood dream of his, ever since his grandfather first showed him a book of the world and all the wonders it held. The pyramids in Egypt, the castles in Ireland, the ancient statues in Japan. Everything was so unique and interesting in their own way! But one thing caught his eye, more important than the rest: the big, blue sea.

It didn't matter what beach it was or what part of the world he was in; he just had to experience the ocean, one way or another. Unknown creatures roamed there and waves flew with the current, sometimes birthing a raging storm.

He loved it all, every danger and every haven. It was all a wonderful mystery to him that he had to decode.

After his usual 120 minutes were up, Armin packed up his belongings, returned the books to Petra, and exited the library. Almost as soon as he stepped out into the below freezing weather, he felt those acquainted pair of eyes looking over him.

He was tempted to finally glance back at the homeless girl and give a smile or a wave, something to acknowledge her presence but something told him that wasn't the thing to do. And so he continued on, fighting against the whipping wind.

It only took about 15 minutes to walk to his apartment, despite the slowly growing traffic and the rapidly setting sun. Utter relief came to him once he locked his apartment door and switched on the lights. He then proceeded to remove his winter jacket and long grey scarf, tucking them into the tiny coat closet. An hour or two then passed of him preparing and eating a tuna sandwich, taking a quick shower, reading a chapter of the new book he was reading, finishing up other homework before he finally settled down into bed.

His eyes momentarily glanced at the white door across the living room—the other spare bedroom. Eren used to live with him when they purchased this apartment together though he only stayed for about 7 months before choosing to live in a dorm room at Maria University (Armin didn't blame him in the least; it usually took Eren an hour or so to get to and from school). Mikasa also went to Maria University with him, for her sake or Eren's he wasn't sure. All he knew is that Eren wanted to enroll into the military but his mother insisted that he should at least go through 2 years of college before plunging into something so dangerous. This was the path Mikasa decided to follow as well.

As he laid down in his bed and hugged himself with the comfortable sheets and covers, all that was on his mind was how happy he was for Eren—but also at how silent the apartment seemed to be.

MR. SMITH WILL NOT BE HOLDING HONOR'S CALCULUS TODAY, NOVEMBER 12TH

Armin read the typed note that was taped onto the classroom door. His shoulders slumped a little at the news. Of course he was concerned for the well-being of his teacher, but he was a bit disappointed at not learning calculus today (it was one of his favorite subjects).

Hitch and Boris, two of Armin's classmates, sluggishly walked over to the door just as he walked away. He then heard them hiss "yesss!" under their breath and high-five each other.

The short blond didn't know what to do with the next 2 hours until he had to meet up with Eren and Mikasa. Maybe study in the computer lab? Grab something to eat in the cafeteria? Should he call Marco and see if he wanted to hang out? These thoughts jumped around in his mind as his booted feet guided him off campus and deep within the city. He looked around, nothing in particular catching his—

Armin's ocean blue eyes came to rest on someone he thought he recognized. They were small, smaller than him. Their hands were fumbling in their bright hair, attempting to put it together into some sort of messy bun. The figure was strolling over to a road less traveled by, where it was dark and lonely and sometimes dangerous. And then, without thinking, he jogged to catch up with them once his brain processed the acquainted dirty white sweatshirt and ripped up jeans.

"E-Excuse me!" he called out, slowing to a stop about 2 meters from her. She paused and turned her body sideways to look at him. Suddenly, it seemed impossible to speak.

The girl's hair was shiny with grease and hung lowly in her face, curtaining half of it. Her eyes were as clear and blue as the ice that plastered the streets and buildings which, in a way, made them sharp but soft. That was also the way to describe her facial features: her jawline was straight and her chin was pointed and her nose created a nice, triangular shape. But her chapped lips were thick and full, her blonde eyebrows were thin and still, and her cheekbones were high and smooth.

Even with her oily hair, sickly pale skin, or bright red nostrils (a telltale sign that she was suffering from a flu of some sort), Armin couldn't help but to be caught breathless by this girl's unique beauty.

As he was about to pull his lips back in a genuine smile and open his mouth to greet her properly, the blonde girl narrowed her eyes and startled Armin by saying "What the fuck do you want?"

The boy visibly flinched at her harsh words. He must've been marveling at her longer than he thought, for a glint of impatience sparked in her eyes. Now Armin was a master of words, having the rare ability to present the perfect response in almost any given situation, however, being under the influence of the nameless girl's intense but enchanting glare, for the first time he didn't know what to say and was left blubbering like an idiot.

"I-I'm sorry! It's-It's just that you, uh, you seem f-familiar. You see-seem familiar to me?" He wasn't sure why it came out in the form of a question. He knew she was the same girl that he'd seen in that empty alleyway so many times. Was her death glare confusing his statements from his questions?

"I-I mean, do you, like, um, often visit the, um, uh…" He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Why did he suddenly forget the name of the café that he literally went to everyday? Connie's parents owned the business, for goodness sake! How could he forget his own friend's last name—

"Springer's Café!" The boy's eyes flew open to their original widened state, glad he finally remembered the coffee shop's title. But disappointment quickly replaced that emotion when he realized that the girl was walking away.

"Uh! W-Wait!" He jogged to catch up with her, his messenger bag bouncing against his hip as he did so. She didn't stop, however, so he was forced to keep the same determined pace as her.

"I-I'm sorry to bother you miss, but, you're the one I always see sitting outside of Springer's Café…" He trailed off once he saw the sideways glance the girl was giving him. It was hard and pointed, almost like she was accusing him of being the stalker.

"…right?" he finished nervously.

She said nothing. Her eyes were focused on the path ahead of her and her lips were set into a disinterested frown. Was she already that annoyed by his presence?

Laughing anxiously with his fingers combing through the hair on the back of his head, Armin weakly cleared his throat before continuing his attempted conversation with this unknown girl. "Uh, anyway, my name's Armin. A-Armin Arlert. What's yours?"

A moment of awkward silence passed by before she responded dully: "Annie."

Her voice was low and raspy like cotton balls were stuffed into her mouth. But a warm and wondrous smile slowly etched across Armin's face at her reply. Annie… It was a common name which meant several parents out there probably loved how you breathed out the "Ann" and let the "ie" roll off your tongue like maple syrup. The name was Dutch, if he remembered correctly, and meant "graceful".

Of course, he wouldn't tell her that. Not yet anyway.

"Hi, Annie," he said, still smiling. "Where are you heading?"

Probably just realizing that he was still following her, Annie came to a sudden halt on high alert, like an eagle when sensing its prey. Armin staggered a little bit when he stopped with her. "That's none of your business."

The boy turned to face the girl. Her eyebrows tilted downward in the shape of a V and her glare was as sharp as a steel knife. He smiled brightly at her, but there was no doubt in his mind: he was absolutely terrified.

"Well, you're walking into a sketchy part of town and I just thought…well…" He fidgeted, shyly rubbing his jacketed forearm while he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "…if it would be okay if I went with you."

Annie rolled her eyes. "I am more than capable of handling myself." She was about to turn a corner, about to step into darkness, when Armin unknowingly took a hold of the departing girl's wrist, bringing her to a pause.

"Wait! I—!" His hand quickly retreated once he saw her lethal eyes strike at him, irritation and impatience practically dripping from her eye sockets like angry tears.

"What do you want?"

Armin fumbled around in his messenger bag, going as fast as he could. His clammy palms pocketed his small wallet while his bony fingers shifted through its insides. He then gripped his objective firmly: a wrinkled twenty dollar bill. The desperate boy held out his money toward the homeless girl, his gaze softening at her stringy hair and much too thin hoodie.

"Please take it. You need it more than I do."

A moment of silence slipped in between them just like the drifting snow that now fell from the clouded skies. Annie stared at the offering with wide eyes as if she'd never seen money before. She glanced back up at him and for a second, just a second, Armin thought he saw something like gratitude flicker across her features. But, as rapidly as it had come, the pleasing emotion disappeared and was replaced by her typical annoyed expression.

She roughly shoved the cash back into his chest and stepped away from him. "I don't need your charity or your help," she hissed under her breath. And with that, the runaway did what she does best and left the dreamer behind, leaving him wondering what he did wrong.