Chapter Text
It had started with Armin barely making it up the stairs to his brand new dorm room that he would be sharing with a complete almost-stranger. Before the start of the school year, students who would be living on-campus were given the choice to fill up a questionnaire that would supposedly match you up with a roommate with similar interests. He sat at his desk at home, putting down his interests such as American literature, marine biology, and reluctantly, anime.
While carrying a pile of boxes up the stairs, the tip of his shoes caught on the edge of the very last step, sending all his belongings flying. Thankfully, nobody was there to see his embarrassing display of disarray.
"Shit," Armin swore, rubbing his poor big toe. Reluctantly, he stood up and started picking up all his stuff and trudged up another flight of stairs. Not until a guy's voice called out to him.
A guy with ash-brown hair with an embarrassing undercut was leaning against his doorframe. He was wearing a ratty band shirt and a pretentious scarf around his neck. There was an obnoxious smirk on his face that Armin couldn't help but stare down. The guy waved. "Hey! Hey, Blondie! Need some help?"
With a begrudging sigh, Armin nodded. "Yeah, actually. I'm just carrying all my stuff to my new dorm, which would be Unit..."
"104?" he asked quickly, while starting to pile the carefully-labelled boxes.
"That would be it, yeah. How'd you know?"
"You're a freshman, I assume? Well, I am too, and I was waiting for my roommate to arrive. Which happens to be you," the guy said with a charming smile. Armin was distracted by how straight his teeth were. "Good thing he's a cutie!"
Oh Jesus.
The two proceeded to go up the stairs awkwardly. "I'm Jean Kirstein by the way. Major in photography," the guy said proudly. "You?"
Armin didn't really want to make conversation after such a terrible morning. He had just travelled hours to get to San Francisco with his grandfather by car, only having eaten a pancake and eggs he wasn't even sure were still edible. The car had broken down several times on the way, too. On top of all that, the fact that he tripped and fell on his very first day at art school wasn't helping. Armin really didn't want to talk, but this Jean guy was too much of a presence to ignore. Besides, the guy was going to be his roommate so he best at least try to get along.
He sighed quietly. "Armin. Armin Arlert. I'm taking up Art History and considering Sculpture too."
"That's a lot of Ars," Jean said with an awkward laugh. "Sounds like you'll be pretty busy."
"Nothing I can't handle, I would hope."
Before he knew it, they had reached their shared room. It was what he had expected — two creaky-looking beds, a bathroom the size of a shoebox, a desk for each of them, and thankfully, a small balcony with a spectacular view of a parking lot. Armin dropped the boxes unceremoniously on the floor, making clouds of dust appear. He was too tired to do anything, so he made his way to his bed (which he assumed to be his) and plopped on face down. The bed let out a pained creak.
Jean chuckled. "Woah there, don't tell me I'm unpacking all of this for you, dude. I may be a friendly guy, but not that much," he said, sitting on the edge of Armin's bed and patting his head. "Come on. Armin. Blondie."
Armin mumbled, wishing Jean would leave him alone and let him sleep. "Stop calling me that. And let me sleep. Please," he groaned out.
"What got you so tired, anyways? Did you like, come here from the other side of the country?"
"Actually, yes. All the way from goddamn North Carolina."
"Well, I'm just from San Diego. A few hours down. I moved here a few months ago, though."
Jean realized he was getting nowhere. He let out a sigh went out to the balcony for a smoke.
Despite the actual classes starting a full three weeks after his arrival, Armin wanted everything to be in order already. He had emailed all his professors giddily, introducing himself and saying that he was looking forward to learning from them. There was a particular professor, Erwin Smith, that Armin was especially excited for. He would be teaching Introduction to Art History, and Armin would be bluffing if he said he didn't have at least a tiny crush on him. Mr. Smith was fairly well-known for his extraordinary teaching skills (and his muscular bombshell of a body) and one of the main reasons Armin had enrolled into this particular school.
Closing his laptop haphazardly, Armin pushed himself off his bed and looked over to Jean, who was playing around with his guitar. He and Jean got along fine, he supposed, but he couldn't really see the guy being into American literature, marine biology, or even anime. Armin cringed, regretting putting that interest down.
His roommate was a charming guy. A little too full of himself, but charming nonetheless. He laughed a little too loudly, and always wore the same shirt, but Armin could manage. In fact, in the past few days that have passed, Armin had to admit things were going better than he expected.
Rolling over onto his stomach and stretching, Armin glanced back at his roommate. "Jean," he said, getting the other boy's attention.
The sound of untuned plucking of the guitar stopped. "Yeah?"
"I can't really see you being into American literature, or marine biology... I mean, that's what I put down for the sheet they gave out to match you with a compatible roommate."
Jean chuckled. "Oh, the roommate-match thing? To be honest, I just put down random things and hoped for the best. Good thing I got lucky with someone like you," he said with a wink.
Seems like something he would do, Armin thought to himself. At least Jean wouldn't need to find about his well-hidden obsession with anime, thank you very much.
He still wanted to put up his Madoka Magica posters though. He hopped over to one of the boxes that were stashed in the corner of the room and opened it, revealing his embarassing collection of anime paraphernalia. He brought out a particular poster and flattened it on the tiny space they called the floor. Jean's attention was diverted to him as Armin stood on his tiptoes, sticking the poster on the wall adjacent to his bed.
"What the hell is that."
Armin jumped and snapped his head towards his roommate. "I-it's anime! And I'm kinda obsessed with it!"
Jean smiled sinisterly. Then he laughed that loud laugh of his. "Kinda obsessed? You're not fooling anybody, Armin, you weaboo. What anime is that?"
"Uh, Madoka Magica..."
"Sounds girly. I have nothing to do, so let's watch it, eh?" Jean said, getting off the bed to fetch his laptop. "Let's see..."
As Jean set up God knows what on his laptop, Armin mentally cursed himself. However, by the end of the afternoon, he didn't expect Jean to be gripping the screen of the laptop so intensely. He swore he even saw a few tears in his eyes.
"Armin. What the fuck."
Art school is hard. That's the only thing that's on Armin's mind as he practically sprints across the campus after realizing he had approximately three and a half minutes to get to his very first class. He had slept in, which was very unlike his typical behavior, but Armin had learned his lesson now – listening to Jean attempt making a cover of whatever Jason Mraz song that was all night was not the best thing to try and fall asleep to. It would be embarrassing, no, humiliating, to show up to his Figure Sketching class late. Armin wasn't ready for that.
"Run, blondie, run!" a shrill voice shouted from behind him, while a few people laughed. Armin waved them off.
As he ran, he watched the colorful buildings whiz past him. This class was at the other side of the whole campus, and his dorm was conveniently placed in the farthest possible area. Finally, a tan brick building caught Armin's eye, which was where his class would be held. He checked his phone. He had a minute.
As he caught his breath, Armin noticed the hoarde of students crowding in front of the big wooden doors. Inching his way through the crowd, he tried to sneak a look at what was happening.
"Holy shit," a girl whispered. "It's him."
Who was he? An excited murmur buzzed through the bunch. Thankful for his slight build, Armin ducked and was able to get to the front where he saw an intimidating looking man in an impeccable suit and slacks walking into the building. He cast a glance at the crowd and his undoubtedly plucked eyebrows drew together even more than they already were.
Armin turned to the girl beside him in the crowd. "Uh, who exactly is he? And why is everybody so excited?"
The short girl blinked up at him with wide, blue eyes and smiled. "Oh hon, that's our professor," she said. "His name is Levi Ackerman. I went to his class last year and loved it so much that I came back. As to why everybody seems so excited, it's just that he's really good at what he does. This class is difficult as hell, but it's incredible. Also, Professor Ackerman definitely not an eyesore."
Armin nodded. “I see.”
The doors opened and the group of students rushed into the hall. The room they were assigned to was pristine and well-organized. Armin took a seat by the window, where the yellow sunlight flooded in. The girl took a seat beside him and leaned towards him.
"Freshman year, huh? How is it so far?" she asked genuinely.
"It's fun, I guess. I have a decent roommate, which is more than I could ask for," Armin said, bringing out his pencil case.
"I feel you. I couldn't stand my roommate at first, but she's my girlfriend now, so whatever. Maybe the same thing will happen to you." She chuckled. "I'm Krista, by the way. I'm a sophomore," she said with a small wave.
"And I'm Armin. I doubt that me and him will ever get together though," he said with a laugh. “He’s cute, though.”
Another excited murmur was heard as Professor Ackerman walked in. Armin swore he heard a girl squeal from the back of the room. He leaned against the desk in front and scanned the faces of each eager student blankly. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the desk and fixed the sleeves of his undoubtedly designer button up.
"I'm not much for fancy introductions, but I'm Professor Levi Ackerman, and obviously, I handle this class," he drawled. "I don't have the time or patience to learn and memorize everyone's names so I'll be skipping the pleasantries. If you want me to learn your name, there are two ways you can do that: either excel in this class or flunk it. Either way, I’ll definitely take notice of you.”
There were a few awkward laughs from the students who couldn’t tell if he was making a very dry joke or not. Prof. Ackerman ignored them.
“I expect you all to take this class very seriously and not make a fool out of yourselves. This is not a place to horse around and waste your time, because I won't be tolerating that. I don't know what you brats have heard about me, but all I ask is for you all to respect me and what I'm blabbing on about now."
Armin shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He had never encountered someone so... harsh before. Maybe harsh wasn't the word, but intense. His professor commanded the attention of the whole class of previously unruly art students, which was a feat. And Krista was right — Professor Ackerman definitely wasn't an eyesore.
He cleared his throat, and Armin snapped out of his daydream. "Now, I am fully aware of the rumors going around that I'm a clean freak, and honestly, I can't deny that. I sincerely hope you lot will remember that, and learn to keep clean yourselves. Don't assume I'm willing to clean up afterwards like your glorified caretaker," he elaborated with a click of his tongue.
The black haired man walked back and forth at the front of the room, then finally sitting down on the comfortable looking chair behind the desk. He started filing through some papers. An awkward silence washed over the whole room for a few minutes.
"Hey," Armin whispered to Krista. "Am I allowed to ask him questions?"
The blonde girl laughed quietly. "Of course, silly. Don't be scared of him, I promise. He may act intense and all but he's really nice."
With a slight nod, Armin cleared his throat and looked towards Prof. Ackerman. "Sir? May I ask something?"
"Well, you already have, mushroom. Shoot."
He chose to ignore the rather creative nickname he was called. "What are the requirements for this? I mean, I bought all the brands of pencils I could find, but I just wanted to know, just in case," Armin asked shyly.
Prof. Ackerman smirked and let out a somewhat amused huff. "There aren't any requirements for this class, but I commend you for asking. Use what ever pencil you want, I could care less. Just make sure you submit works that are worth my time. That's all that matters to me."
“Thank you, Sir.”
The remaining time of the class was used for Prof. Ackerman to lay down the painfully specific ground rules for the class, mostly pertaining to cleanliness. Armin walked out of the building with a stack of papers carefully bound in a folder, which contained the aforementioned ground rules.
"Seriously? Did he do this last year too?" Armin huffed out. Krista was walking beside him, also lugging the folder between her underarms. “I feel like I already hate him.” She smiled amusedly.
"Unfortunately, yeah. I think it's even thicker this year, I swear. I felt like that last year too, though. Scared out of my mind. I almost flunked out so I had to approach him during his office hours to talk about my grades. Outside of class he’s really accommodating and surprisingly pleasant to talk to. He even gave me the chance to do extra plates so my grade could go up."
“Wow, awesome. I don’t want to get to that point, though.”
They continued to walk across the campus. Armin groaned. His small body wasn't accustomed to carrying this much stuff. With a bag slung across his shoulders, he had a hard time catching up with Krista, who was a surprisingly quick walker despite her being even smaller than he was.
"Oh, yeah, Arm! I can call you that, right? My friend is throwing a party in his dorm tomorrow night and it'd be cool if you went. His name's Connie, he's a little bald guy and you might see him around goofing off," she mused. "Where did you say your dorm is?"
"Uh, it's in Shiganshina Hall," Armin mumbled reluctantly. He didn't really want to start off the year partying, but he didn't have an excuse to reject Krista's invitation. She didn't seem like the type to hang around a bad crowd, so Armin decided it wouldn't hurt to go. At least he'd meet new people that might prove to be useful in the near future.
"Perfect! Connie's dorm is in the same place! There'll be drinks and stuff, but we'll always be in need of more because we're all kinda too broke to buy a lot. So if you can, bring some with you. We're all starving artists here, you know," she beamed, but then her eyes widened. "I mean, if that's your type of thing. I didn't mean to assume you were cool with drinking and-"
"O-oh no, it's fine. I'll try to bring some. My roommate will probably want to tag along though. His name is Jean." Damn Jean.
Krista smiled brightly again and shrugged. "The more the merrier!" She checked her watch and meeped. "Oh shit, so I gotta get to my next class right now, catch you later!" she sang, jogging off to another building.
Armin watched her run off with an amused smile.
As usual, Armin found Jean lying on his stomach on his bed, probably dicking around on his laptop.
"I got you invited to a party."
Jean jumped up from his bed and gave a loud whoop.
"Armin. Have I ever told you that I love you? Because I do," Jean cried. "And I got you invited to one too, so we're even."
"Wait, what? Whose party?"
"This guy named Connie. He lives, like, across from us. I bumped into him this morning while getting coffee and he was naked as hell because he left all his clothes in the dryer down the hall. Then he just randomly invites me to his party with his dick hanging out. Fun guy. I love art school," Jean mused. "You should come. Although you don't really seem like the life of the party."
"That's the same party I got you invited to!" Armin sighed. "And yeah, I'm coming. Just because I don't look the part doesn't mean I won't enjoy it." He let out a laugh. "Besides, who would drag you home when you're too drunk to stand on two feet?"
"Jesus, we live across from Connie."
The blond boy waved his hand dismissively and smirked. "Details, details."
Jean sat back down on his bed and leaned back. "So, do you have a girlfriend back home?"
"Nope."
"So you’re gay."
"I-I'm not gay. I kind of like... everyone. And what kind of logic did you even use to come to that conclusion?" Armin mumbled.
"Hmm, interesting. I don't know, I just say stuff I don't really think about."
Armin chuckled. "Yeah, seems like you."
"So, anyone? Boyfriend? Any kind of relationship?" Jean asked intently. "I had a few girlfriends back home."
"Nothing like that. I mean, I had a thing with this guy back in high school. His name was Eren. Nothing really after he moved away in our sophomore year. It kinda sucked though, we grew up together and we were best friends and all," Armin told his roommate.
"Where'd he move away to?"
"He said he and his family were going to New York. His dad was this big shot doctor and North Carolina wasn't cutting it for them. So he ended it. Last time I heard from him was around a month after he left. We never really kept in touch and I’ve tried to get in contact with him through Facebook but I never really mustered up enough courage to."
"That sucks ass, Arm. Is he still living there?"
"Beats me. I’m sure he’s moved multiple times. Why are we talking about his again?" Armin sighed.
"Sorry, I'll drop it," Jean said with a small smile. He got up, walked towards Armin's bed, and sat himself down beside the blond. "That guy, Eren, was it? He sounds like a jerk."
"He wasn't. He really wasn’t. It wasn't his fault or choice he had to go. I can’t blame him for anything, even though he kind of broke my little fifteen year-old heart," Armin chuckled sadly.
Jean patted Armin's soft locks, despite the smaller boy's half-hearted complaints. "Hey, I know what'll cheer you up. I have a gig every other Sunday at the café a few blocks from here, and just for you, I can get a few free cookies and coffees you can take home. I also work there as a barista, so if you're ever in need free two day-old baked goods, you know who to call," Jean proposed.
Armin's roommate was seriously winsome, the boy had to admit. And he just couldn't say no to his invitation.
On nights he was feeling particularly lonely, Armin mulled over the thought of Eren. He wondered if messaging him on Facebook after all this time would be a bad decision, and if his life would somehow change if he clicked that little button. It probably wouldn’t, he thought. They would probably make awkward small talk and things would only fade away again, leaving nothing else for them to talk about or share. If only Eren were active online, then he would have some kind of idea of what the boy was up to these days. It’s not that he cared too much, though. Armin was confident that he had gotten over the little stint; he hardly even thought about Eren unless he was directly reminded of the brown-haired boy. He was his worst in his junior year of high school, the year after Eren left, though. He remembered a particular night when he cried on the couch in his living room because he had missed him so much. Before he had left, Eren promised that even though he ended their short-lived relationship, he still wanted to remain best friends. He promised that he would message Armin on Facebook, send him pictures of the city, and everything. Eren kept his promise at first, but both of them quickly became too busy to talk to each other every night. Armin didn’t want to push it; he didn’t want to coerce Eren into interacting with him when it was obvious he was too preoccupied with life in the city. Undoubtedly, he was meeting new people who were interesting and game for anything. He couldn’t blame Eren for realizing Armin paled in comparison to the rest of the world. Armin had long accepted that being from a small town and not having an astoundingly interesting life would never be enough to convince the other boy to keep in touch. He wanted to contact Eren’s mother at times, but he decided it was humiliating to do so – Armin didn’t want to seem desperate and he definitely didn’t want Eren to feel obliged to maintain whatever shreds of a relationship they still had, if any. On bad days where he randomly missed the boy, Armin did his best to not think about it. It had hurt at first, greatly, but it gradually became a numb throb in the center of his skinny chest.
But it happened three years ago. He was over it – no big deal. He may have been in love with Eren but there were many other things to focus on. He didn’t want his life to revolve around someone who had already left. Eren’s eyes were always looking up, and admittedly, Armin felt like the other was looking for much bigger things than him. So many things had happened in the past three years that made him promptly forget about the heartbreak; despite getting an astoundingly good SAT score of 2120 and being contacted by various universities all over the country, Armin had made the choice to go to art school. His grandfather was surprised but not disappointed; his grandson always had a certain penchant for art and reading about its history. The blond was craving for a new experience anyways; he wanted to finally move out of North Carolina. He was happy, if he dare say so himself.
Armin was pretty sure he had been staring at his suitcase full of clothes for a good hour. He didn't know what to wear; the last time he was at a full-blown party with drinks and all was in high school. He did not have fun at that party, not at all. He had war flashbacks of wearing an embarrassing sweatshirt with Japanese characters on it. Armin was pretty sure he wore sparkly jeans with it, too. He was pretty sure the night ended with him puking all the alcohol he drank on a rosebush in the backyard he was tending to.
He had two suitcases laid out in front of him. He opened up the one to his left, that revealed his collection of skirts, blouses, tights, and high heels. Checking the door again, he made sure Jean wasn't back from buying the drinks from the store around the corner. Just a little game of dress up won't hurt, he supposed.
Quickly, Armin slipped on a pink skater skirt, a sheer blouse, and black tights. He even put a small bow in his hair and admired himself in the mirror. Perfect. The blond twirled around, admiring how his skirt followed his movements. He then grabbed his phone that was sitting on the bed and opened the camera app to take a picture of his outfit.
That's when the door slammed open. Armin dropped his phone in shock. Shit.
"Oh, hello...?" Jean asked, perplexed. He put down the six pack of beer carefully and locked the door before he decided to react. "Who the hell are you and what have you done to Armin?!"
"Jean-"
Jean choked at the sound of the familiar soft-spoken voice. "Oh my God. It's you?"
"Yeah, it's me, and... yeah. It's me," Armin gritted out, all while covering his face with his hands.
"So is this like an alter-ego of yours... Like Hannah Montana? You like dressing like a chick?" Jean asked with wide eyes. He scratched the back of his head. There was a pregnant silence. "Because you look... really really good."
Now that was something Armin didn't expect. He had expected Jean to be weirded out enough to leave the room. Despite being flushed incredibly red, he looked up at his roommate's face.
"I-it's not an alter-ego... It's just that on some days I just, uh, feel like a girl. I guess. That's all," Armin said quietly. Everybody else who found out about it in the past hadn't been very understanding; they quietly ignored the fact that Armin wasn't comfortable being a boy all the time. "So I dress like one sometimes, and yeah."
Without giving Jean time to react, he buried his face in his hands again.
"Oh Armin," Jean breathed out. "You're precious."
"And... and I'd really appreciate it if you referred to me as 'she' or 'her' on those days. I didn't really want you to find out about this in this way, I mean, I wanted to talk to you about it seriously and all just so you wouldn't be surprised...," Armin rambled on, then he wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry."
Jean laughed again and ruffled Armin's hair. "Hey, chill. It may not be something I understand firsthand, but what I get is that it'll still be you no matter what. You're cute either way. Don’t sweat it, yeah? Now let's get ready for that party."
"Thank you, Jean. It really means a lot, y’know? Just… thank you," Armin quietly said, sniffling. He picked at the lint on his skirt.
Jean’s face softened. “No problem. I told you, I’m a pretty great guy.”
“You really are,” Armin admitted. Although he and Jean met only a few weeks prior to this, the blond had to admit his fondness for his roommate was only growing. “So what are you wearing?”
"I have to look my best for all potential mates," Jean guffawed. "Probably one of my nicer t-shirts and a scarf."
"You're a huge nerd, Jean."
"I'm a dashing nerd, at least," he laughed, pulling off his shirt. Armin was drawn to his roommate's lean torso and the enticing V that dipped into his loose jeans. It was definitely a nice torso. While pulling a shirt out of the closet, Jean looked over his shoulder to look at Armin. Upon noticing the blond’s stare, he clicked his tongue. "See, even the great Armin Arlert can't resist this body."
"Please. Just stop," Armin finally smiled, standing up to look through his suitcase to find a good outfit for himself. "You're just embarrassing yourself."
"Finally he smiles. Besides, there’s no such thing, Arm. Hey, how does this look?"
The blond stood up and patted the dust off his knees. This dorm will be a pain in the ass to clean, he thought, turning to Jean.
Despite his pretentious scarf and overall smug face, Jean looked good. He wore a plain grey t-shirt that hugged his chest and upper arms (which were also tastefully lean) perfectly. His jeans were a dark color and it complimented his shirt. He wore red socks and silver sneakers, which added a nice touch. His checkered scarf was wrapped around his neck, and even if it looked ridiculous, Armin acknowledged that it worked with everything else.
"Speechless? Don't worry, I'm all too used to it, Arm," Jean gloated.
"Shut the hell up, Jean. Fine, you look good. Really good," Armin laughed. "Now let me get changed."
Armin went his way over to their shared bathroom and pulled on his skinny jeans and cream knitted sweater. He then slipped on his Toms. When he shuffled out, he heard a whistle from Jean, who was already halfway out the door, six-pack in hand.
"Looking good. Now let's go," Jean said.
The party was already in full force by the time they walked in Connie's dorm, which he shared with a guy named Marco. The dorm was huge, compared to Armin and Jean's; it had separate bedrooms and an actual living room with a small kitchen connected to it. Rap music was blasting through the speakers, and Armin couldn't hear a single thing. While trying to make out what Jean was trying to tell him, someone jumped on his back and clung on like a baby monkey.
Armin almost dropped the drink in his hand. "What the hell?!" Armin gasped, trying to shake the weight off.
That caught Jean's attention; his smiled only widened when he saw Connie hanging onto Armin's slender back.
"Connie!"
"Hey man! Glad you could make it. Is this little guy you were telling me about? Armin, was it?" Connie asked excitably, and finally jumped off of the blond's back.
"Yeah it is," Armin heaved. Connie was heavy for someone his size.
"Cool! I'm Connie Springer, and I'm only in art school on the condition that I take up oil painting or some shit. Ask my parents. What I really want to do is street art. But the exposure is good, I guess. A lot of cool people, too," Connie expressed with his drink sloshing around in the cup in his left hand.
"Armin Arlert, I'm doing Art History," he shouted, trying to be heard above the heavy beats.
"Damn, I could never do that. Too many things to memorize. Anyways, new guests have arrived at my humble abode. Gotta get to it," Connie said, hopping off to God knows where. "Nice to meet you, Armin!"
With a wave, Armin awkwardly said bye to the hyperactive bald kid. Expecting Jean to still be by his side, he turned around, but apparently he had gone off somewhere, probably guzzling down some drinks.
Armin was right. After a few minutes of walking around, he spotted Jean taking shots with a bulky blond guy who looked like he could snap Armin's back in half as if he were a toothpick. Debating on whether he would save Jean from the debauchery he would be facing, he felt a soft tap on his right shoulder. It was Krista, and she was smiling up to him. It seemed as if she was always smiling. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt and a flouncy skirt.
"Hey Arm! Did you just get here?" she asked, inviting him to take a seat on the sunken couch at the side of the room.
Taking a seat, Armin huffed out, "Yeah. I don't really know what to do though. I don't know anybody here aside from you and Connie, who I only talked to for like, a minute." He took a sip of the drink, which burned his throat as he swallowed.
"Hm, I see. Well, let's introduce you to some people. I'll call my girlfriend over; she's always quite the charmer," Krista said brightly with a flick of her pinkish blonde hair. After looking around the room for a bit, she spotted a swarthy girl with short dark brown hair. "Ymir! Come over here! And bring your friends!"
The girl flashed a small smirk at Krista and took a big gulp from her beer bottle, while sauntering over to the couch. Armin could feel himself shrink — there were so many people here that projected such big and intimidating personalities. Feeling small, he took another sip from his drink.
"A-ah," Ymir groaned out, plopping herself down on the couch and putting an arm around the smaller blonde girl. "Who's the blondie? You two look alike."
"This is Armin, and he's a freshie. He doesn't know anybody here and I want to get him some friends."
"Nice, I like fresh meat," Ymit snickered. "So, Armin, you see anybody here you find hot? You're cute, I bet if I shove you in the right direction you'd find somebody to take home in no time," she said amusedly.
"Ymir!" Armin heard Krista scold.
"Ahaha, nah, not really. I mean, I'm not really looking for someone to... take home, I guess," Armin answered. "But thanks? Sort of."
Ymir made a considering hum. "Interesting. Well in that case, I got nothing for you. Here, talk to Sasha. She'll show you a good time, I bet." She gestured for a brown haired girl in a ponytail at the opposite side of the room to hop over. In her hands were big handfuls of chips. “Sasha! Get your ass over here!”
"Heya, guys," she chirped. Her big brown eyes blinked over to Armin and she let out a squeal. "Oh my God, he's so cute. I've never seen you around!" She went over to hug Armin.
Not used to being hugged by complete strangers who were most probably drunk as hell, he involuntarily jerked away from the Sasha girl. "Ye-Yeah! Uh, I'm Armin and I just got here from North Carolina," he choked out.
"Awesome. I'm Sasha Blouse, Connie's occasional girlfriend. I kinda live in this dorm, actually. But not officially because, you know, stuff. Want some chips?" she asked with her mouth full.
"Uh, sure. Thanks," he coughed.
"So Sasha," Krista said from the other side of the couch. "How's your Oil Painting class?"
"Oh my God. We do not talk about that. It's the start of the sem, and I already feel like I'm going to flunk. Nanaba does not fuck around," Sasha lamented. "Armin. Learn from me. Don't ever take Nanaba's Oil Painting class. Unless you want death."
Krista let out a high pitched laugh. "Oh come on. It isn't that bad."
"Yeah, because you're a goddamned goddess when it comes to painting and shit."
Ymir chuckled lowly. "She's a goddess alright," she said, placing a kiss on Krista's neck.
Sasha mock-gagged. "Ew. PDA. Anyways, Armin, Nanaba is like the professor from hell. She acts all soft and sweet but she's insane. Her voice is really relaxing and soothing, like you could just fall asleep in her class. But you have to stay awake because she hates it when people sleep in class. Ugh." She took another sip of her beer.
"I see," Armin said stiffly. He could feel the alcohol slowly seeping his way into his system, making him more uneasy. Shifting in his small spot on the couch, he decided to just keep quiet and try to calm down.
Armin listened absentmindedly to the three girls on the sunken couch rattle on about an array of things for what felt like hours; they talked about things like hair dye and the new thrift shop down the road. Just as he was about to zone out again, he heard a not so distant cheering from the place Jean was taking shots a few hours ago. It was muffled at first, but it got louder and louder.
The girls on the couch suddenly turned their heads to the source of the cheering. Their eyes lit up in recognition.
"Jäger! Jäger! Jäger!" Armin heard. They were probably downing Jägerbombs, and he could bet Jean was in the middle of the whole thing. Armin sighed, accepting the fact that he'd be nursing a very hungover roommate tomorrow morning.
The cheering didn't cease, but that's when Krista jumped off the couch. "Come on girls, sounds like he's here," she said with a huge smile.
"Wait, who?" Armin tried to ask, but nobody heard him over the music and cheering. He decided it would be best for him to just follow them.
He weaved his way through the crowd, until he finally saw where the commotion was coming from. It looked like someone just entered the door, but Armin couldn't concentrate as the cheering didn't show any signs of dying down.
"Jäger, come over here!" he heard Connie shout. "Give me a hug!"
Jäger?
Armin tiptoed to see over the colorful heads of the people crowded around the door.
As Connie released the guy he was bear-hugging, Armin's eyes stayed unblinking as he realized just who had walked through the door of this goddamn dorm room, of all places.
It was Eren Jäger, complete with his unruly chestnut brown hair, expressive green eyes, and unbelievably blinding smile. Armin's ex-boyfriend, just the one who moved away to New York three years ago without as much as an explanation as to why he never called back.
Armin was sent reeling, and he gulped down what remained of his drink. That would explain the cheering earlier.
“I missed you guys a ton, holy shit,” Eren’s voice rang out, although Armin tried to block it off. He wanted to leave, he really had to leave. He also needed to find Jean right now, because otherwise he’d just feel bad ditching his roommate. Armin felt sick to his stomach, and he had a good feeling it wasn’t just the alcohol. He never expected to run into Eren again ever, or at least anytime soon. But he was here, and not just someone who was weirdly placed in the peripherals of Armin’s life.
Armin turned on his heels swiftly, leaving his drink on a random table. He kept his eyes peeled for his drunk roommate. After a few long minutes of searching, he was out of luck. Making sure Eren wasn’t anywhere near where he was, Armin dejectedly resigned himself to asking around if anyone had seen Jean. He figured that escaping to his own dorm would only draw more attention to himself, so he decided against it. Finally, he spotted the built guy that Jean was drinking with earlier, who was seated on the kitchen counter.
“H-hey,” Armin squeaked out, waving stiffly at the guy. “Have you seen my friend? Jean? He was taking shots with you awhile ago. I was supposed to bring him home but it looks like I lost him.”
The bigger blond turned his head towards Armin. “Oh, Jean? Last time I saw him he was running to the bathroom because he was this close to puking. Couldn’t hold in his alcohol at all. Pretty good for a freshman, though.”
“Thank you so much,” Armin breathed out, running over to the bathroom.
“No problem. The name’s Reiner, by the way!”
Thankfully, Armin found Jean in the bathroom. He was crouched, sulking pitifully against the wall, with a cup in his hand.
“Armin. There is a god, and he is right in front of me,” Jean sighed out.
Armin grunted and hoisted Jean up by his underarms. “Come on, let’s go home, Jean. Be glad I’m nice enough to not leave you behind in this bathroom.”
“Don’t wanna leave yet, Arm. I’m havin’ so much fun. Have you met Reiner? What a guy,” the other boy slurred out. “He let me drink his vodka.”
Slowly but surely, the two made their way to the hallway that lead to the front door. “Come on Jean, cooperate with me,” Armin gritted out. “I gotta get out of here. I’m not above leaving you here at this damn party if we don’t get out of here within five minutes.”
But that was when Jean spotted the couch Armin was seated on earlier. He somehow untangled himself from the other boy’s vice grip and ungracefully plunked himself face down into the cushions. The boy let out a sleepy noise, folding his legs up and tucking his head into his arms.
Armin frenetically tugged on Jean’s shirt. “Jean, no! We have to leave right now!”
Jean let out a long suffering groan and whined, “Lemme sleep, Armin, God.”
Armin closed his eyes and counted to ten, taking deep breaths. He wouldn’t freak out. No, he would stand up calmly and walk back to his dorm room. The door was just right there. Fucking Jean, he was capable of getting home by himself, right? He wouldn’t run into Eren, who he wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to talk to right now, even if he thought he would be if the time ever came. Armin squeezed his fists, opened his eyes and prepared to stand up. He felt a weight drop down next to him on the couch.
“Never pegged you as the type to get wasted at parties like this.”
It felt like time stopped for a few seconds and Armin couldn’t exactly process where the boyish voice came from. The blond turned around slowly; he felt like his entire body was burning up.
It was Eren, his head tilted with an innocent expression. There was a full cup in his hand, and his legs were crossed casually. Music continued to pump through the speakers, and people continued to chatter on all around them. Armin wished he had never agreed to go to this party. His ears were ringing.
“I’m not wasted,” was all he could muster. He exhaled shakily and then snapped his head up at Eren, who was in a stupid maroon hoodie and stupid skinny jeans and stupid-
He gave Armin a soft smile, and the blond felt all his thoughts fly out of his previously well-mounted head.