Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: Please don't hate me x.X
Annie didn't mean to hit him that hard. In her defense, she didn't know the boy had been suffering from severe headaches from his injury during the previous night's performance. One moment the boy had been squinting in the bright sun at his partner and the next he was unconscious on the ground.
Naturally, this struck the gathered recruits as hilarious, as only a few hours ago, Annie had been the one to "save" Armin. Now she was responsible for sending him to the medical wing.
Drill Sergeant Shadis also thought it was an ironic twist of events (after all, he had been banking on some sort of disaster between the two starkly different blonds), but his pathetic recruits still had hand-to-hand combat training to work on and he quickly dispelled the giggling crowd.
"Kirchstein! Help Leonhardt take her princess to the infirmary!"
Jean gratefully accepted the new order and tried to avoid Annie's stony glare. Although Marco was being a considerate friend by pulling his punches, Jean was still sore and his leg pulsed incessantly, courtesy of a certain blonde knight. Anything to get him out of training was welcome and the unfortunate situation itself was enough of a revenge for him. He could hear the spectators' chuckling resume behind him.
Annie was already kneeling by the prone boy with a slight frown etched across her face. Jean couldn't tell if the girl was concerned or guilty, but her usually emotionless mask was slightly cracked.
The trip to the infirmary seemed to last forever and consisted of Annie staring straight ahead while Jean cursed the unconscious boy's weight repeatedly under his breath. Despite the fact that the resident assistant had assured both of the children that they were free to return to training, Jean wandered offhandedly towards a nearby cabinet of medication, wondering which pill would bring his throbbing leg the most relief. He was trying to stall as long as possible to prevent returning to sparring practice. When the taller brunet turned back to check on his smaller friend, he was surprised to see the blonde girl standing by the unconscious boy's side. Although her gaze remained fixed on the boy's evenly rising and falling chest, her eyes were unfocused as if she were thinking of something else.
Jean's eyebrows rose as he watched the girl. Despite training with the girl for three years, he did not pretend to claim a relationship any more intimate than mild acquaintanceship—if that, considering what she had done to his leg unremorsefully a few hours previously. However, he was certain that the girl's icy exterior more often than not reflected her icy soul within. The brunet was surprised to say the least that she hadn't left already. Although she was to blame for Armin's accident, he didn't expect her to feel responsible or—heaven forbid—feel guilty about what happened.
After their performance yesterday, though, Jean wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to think of the blonde. While he and Eren had been slightly preoccupied with digging themselves out of the rubble of Jaeger's brilliant plan, evidently the two blondes had discovered an unforeseen stage chemistry, according to Connie. Jean crossed his arms and continued to watch Annie.
Without even glancing at the interloper behind her (though Jean had a feeling she might not have noticed his presence), Annie placed a light hand on Armin's arm and pressed another smooth palm against the boy's purpling temple. Her fingers hesitated slightly before curling gently in the boy's dusty, tousled blond hair.
Marco (who, Jean was distressed to discover, fancied himself as a romantic) had described the kiss—rather, kisses—in great detail to Jean after the performance. Even when waking her princess from a magical slumber, Annie hadn't been particularly gentle. With his gathered evidence of the events of the previous night, Jean was amazed that the girl was showing this much restraint and tenderness.
Still, weirder things have happened, he added in his head, thinking back to the disastrous miracle of a performance they had managed to pull off the night before.
Speaking of miracles, Jean remarked dryly, watching the blonde stiffen and then slowly bend down to Armin's face. She brushed her lips softly against the boy's parted lips and pulled away with the ghost of an expectant expression on her normally stoic face.
Instead of waking up as he had in the play, Armin's parted lips merely faded into a content, sleepily smile and the boy's dark eyelashes fluttered before closing again.
However, this must have been enough of a reaction to satisfy Annie. The blonde leaned back and watched the sleeping boy with an unreadable expression.
Deciding then was the best time for Jean to take his leave, he slowly backed up and accidentally rammed into the medicine cabinet. The blonde girl jumped and pinned the wincing brunet with a lethal glare.
Without missing a beat, the brunet held up both hands in surrender and shrugged. "Won't tell a soul," he assured her. Her icy glare did not thaw and Jean took that as his definite cue to leave. Suppressing another half-smile, he left the room, thinking of Marco's reaction when he would retell the story to his freckled friend.
How had Armin described the perfect knight? Something to do with kindness, Jean recalled. .He smirked, remembering the girl's uncharacteristically gentle actions.
Annie's kindness was showing, though I'm not sure if it suited her. He would never understand what the kid saw in her, but he wished the best for them both, he supposed.
"Uh, Armin, I don't thi—"
"It'll be fine," the blond replied nonchalantly with a dismissive twitch of his wrist.
"Are you sure? 'Cause Commander Erwin ordered that no one should be down here ever. And—well, especially now." Eren frowned at his distracted friend, feeling somehow that their roles had been reversed. Usually the blond was the level-headed, cautious one holding Eren back from making stupid decisions, but now the brunet was the nervous one standing guard and trying not to wince at each loud creak of the floorboards. Eren decided that Armin's role as the sensible friend was clearly harder than he had ever given him credit for.
"Armin, we really should go. We shouldn't be down here." Eren was doubly uncomfortable with the risky situation and the prone figure lying before them. Only hours earlier, Armin had burst into his room, face glowing with excitement, when he announced that they had found a way to crack the crystal Annie was entombed in. Eren was understandably less enthusiastic to hear the news, still feeling sore over the girl's betrayal and her traitorous actions.
If Armin was uncomfortable or angry, his body language revealed nothing. The blond boy was focused solely on the prone figure and glass shards before him. Although the crystal had shattered and exposed the girl's thin body to the stuffy air of her holding cell, she had yet to wake up, maintaining the same peaceful expression of blissful calm that she had worn while in the crystal. Hanji had feared that moving her would compromise the crystal and as a result left her partially entombed. At the current moment, her legs were still concealed within the cracked, shimmering prison. Had the girl any desire to break free once she woke, she only had to kick her feet to loosen the shards.
Now Armin was hovering dangerously close to the sleeping girl and her fragile cage. Eren thought about warning his friend again, but it was unlikely he would hear him, much less heed him.
What is he doing?! Eren rubbed his face and ran a nervous hand through his messy, sweaty hair. Disregarding all boundaries and orders on the entombed girl, Armin slowly reached out and lightly stroked the girl's cold, pale face.
"Annie…? Please wake up…"
Heichou is going to be so angry!
Taking a deep breath, the blond knelt down, gently bumping his pale nose against hers. His pink, chapped lips brushed lightly against her frozen, pursed mouth. He pulled away, feeling his humid breath leak from his mouth and warm the girl's icy lips.
In the next moment, several things happened very quickly with no warning. Annie's crystalline eyes flew open at the boy's contact and a furious, shocked expression thundered across her once calm features. Her hands that had been clasped across her chest bunched into fists and before Armin could stutter out an apology, the girl was lunging for his face, knocking the boy to the ground with a strong punch to the side of the head.
Armin tumbled backwards with a startled yelp and Annie's jarring action shattered the remaining crystal binding her stiff legs. Exhausted by the effort and acclimating to her freedom, the blonde girl gripped the sharp sides of her self-interred prison. Her chest heaved violently as she stared down at the boy with mixed expressions of rage, confusion, and terror.
Eren gaped at his best friend who was slowly stirring amongst the shattered fragments of the girl's crystalline shell. He wasn't sure whether he should help the boy up or restrain the adjusting titan-shifter. An unfamiliar sound bubbled from below Eren and the boy started down at his friend in wordless shock, wondering if the girl's punch had damaged the blond in some way.
Propped up on his elbows, the blond continued to tremble with his eyes closed, head thrown back, and his mouth open wide. After a bewildering pause, Eren realized that his friend was laughing. Laughing the way they used to before titans and death became constant companions. Since the blonde titan-shifter's encasement in her diamond prison, Eren had yet to see a sliver of the emotion the blond was revealing now. The brunet watched his friend with parted, awestruck lips, thanking whatever miracle had returned his Armin to him.
Armin laughed and sobbed and laughed even louder in the tight, confined room, causing disjointed echoes to reverberate off the walls. Disbelief and unrestrained joy rolled off of the boy in heavy waves and Eren found it difficult not to smile. Even Annie, murdering, traitorous Annie, collapsed into quiet trembling when the blond looked into her eyes and whispered that he thought she would never do that again.
Armin reached for the girl and Eren turned away from the two, feeling as if he was intruding on a private reunion. He still hated the titan-shifter for everything she had done to him and his friends, but his clenched stomach loosened slightly at her hoarse, whispered apology.
For some odd reason, the entire, miraculous situation reminded Eren of the unfortunately unforgettable play they had performed while Annie was still pretending to be their friend. Had their play not revolved around a princess who was saved by a brave knight's kiss?
Annie had then played the knight in the production, but here Eren thought his friend was the brave one. After all, he had kissed the most dangerous prisoner of war against humanity who also had a personal grudge against the blond responsible for her captivity.
No…no…no…
He had saved her; she could not lose him now.
Annie moved in a haze towards the tattered remains of the returned wagons. He had promised. He had sworn that she would be able to accompany him on the next scouting mission. Her foot caught on the uneven ground and she stumbled the last feet to where the boy's still body was arranged almost respectfully amongst the crimson-stained cloaks and worn supplies sacks. His pale, cold hands were clasped to his chest and his face was calm and composed.
She could have protected him; she could have saved him. She should have been the one.
"Armin…?"
A trembling hand reached out for his face. A light, hesitant finger wandered across the boy's icy forehead, but recoiled when it became tangled in the boy's sticky, crimson hair. Annie pulled her hand from the prone body and stared disbelievingly at her stained fingers.
Connie, who had remained hunched to the side of the wagon, looked up weakly. "Annie—I'm—" he began, but stopped when he realized she hadn't noticed his presence. I'm sorry… he finished in his head, clamping his mouth shut.
She slowly twined her fingers in the boy's slick, tousled hair. How many times had she done this only for the boy to wake up again? Her mind pitched back and forth as she struggled to come to grip with the situation. Like the stories, everything would turn out fine. It had to. She was kind and bra—
Annie Leonhardt was not kind.
(He wanted to tell her he's gone.)
Her gently laced fingers curled into fists, holding the boy's blond hair in tight handfuls. She knew this would have hurt him, but she didn't care. She just wanted to see some sort of reaction from the motionless boy. Even a whimper of pain or a weak moan would show that he was alive.
But he did not stir, even as Annie smashed her lips forcefully against the boy's slack mouth, growling softly as she pressed a knee sharply in his cold gut. She wanted to hurt him so badly that he wakes up and smiles at her again. He did not cry out. He did not breathe.
Annie Leonhardt was not brave.
(He wanted to tell her he's sorry.)
She was terrified of having to spend a single day without the boy who saved her life in so many ways. He showed her the value of humanity and he showed her value to those who wanted her dead.
Feeling the salty heat of unshed tears bubbling along her lashes, Annie pressed her forehead against his sticky, cooling skin. She could feel the ghost of her own breath against her face. If she closed her eyes tightly enough, she could pretend that it was Armin's breath warm against her cheeks. Refusing to accept defeat, she forcefully pressed her mouth against the boy's cold lips and breathed all of the air in her lungs into his unmoving chest. Annie felt the boy's chest heave slightly from the sudden intake of breath and for a moment she felt hope deceive her.
A single, quivering tear fell onto the boy's dirty, bloody face and traced a shimmering, clean path down his grimy cheek. Annie had never cried for anyone else in her life. She was a coward for crying now. She wanted him to wake up, because she was afraid of being alone.
Connie averted his gaze and angled his body away from the tragedy. Never before had he hoped so hard for a childish miracle. True love's kiss to wake the dead—no, the merely sleeping. He buried his face into his trembling hands, hating the stupid, lying fairytale that had given him so much optimism in the first place.
What had he said all those years ago? That they would live happily ever after?
Connie felt something warm leak between his fingers.
There is no such thing as "happily ever after" here…
Well, that went from cute to funny to angsty in about 6.7 seconds.
I swear to you, I cannot write anything happy. I promise I'll try to write some (non-death) fluff in the future to make up for it!
Thanks for sticking with me on this tiny, little adventure. Maybe we'll cross paths again on the AruAni road? :D