Work Text:
For no one in the Survey Corps was night a time for pleasure. Between the insomniac corporals, the committed snorers and everyone else in between, it was hard to get a good night's sleep.
And the dead silence surrounding the building's nine remaining occupants didn't help.
Armin hadn't been able to sleep since the takeover of Shiganshina. Valleys of dark circles crept under his bloodshot eyes-veins were visible, rolling under pale skin-. His transformation into a primal titan a few days ago could have been blamed. Back then, he'd been plunged into an abyss of unimaginable suffering, where all his tissues seemed to rip apart in a body that was too enormous, too big, indelicate. He had become a veritable ball of fat, a belly with indomitable teeth. And his brain torn apart, scattered by who knows what magic between those putrid, organic flesh. His identity dissolved by heat, shattered by sinew.
Just conscious enough to hurt.
Not enough to hold back when that crunchy food had been presented to his hungry mouth.
And that was where his memory always stopped him, because it was wiser than he was: aware of the fact that these memories were capable of further shattering the fragile equilibrium reconstituted in his mind.
So Armin heaved a sigh and let a tear run down his right cheek as he looked up at the melancholy sky. As so often, it was the only one to welcome him in his moments of weakness. In the past, he could have turned to his friends to share all his worries: this was no longer the case. Now, all Eren did was preach this kind of childish revenge, this concept of "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" that made Armin want to give up and throw himself off a bridge. As for Mikasa, she found it hard to see eye to eye with her adopted brother. In short, her lifelong friends could no longer listen to what he had to say. The full moon was his only refuge, the only glimmer in a world tinged with shades of gray.
A melody came to mind, as old as time itself, for he had listened to it as a child, in his grandfather's deep voice.
"I asked the moon...
And the sun doesn't know that...
I showed her my wounds....
And the moon laughed at me..."
This desire to remember brought almost-forgotten songs to his heart. His childhood in Shiganshina, roaming the streets to find Eren and Mikasa off to market. The altercations with his bullies who targeted him for being too intellectual. The rainy days symbolized and marked by the wax seal of endless readings, books that on his bedside table piled up to the ceiling sometimes. Of the house that smelled of flower soap, which his grandfather ran like a housewife and where Armin savored the best pastries. His afternoons spent looking through picture books, always the same illustrations, one by one forming grandiloquent marvels. The beauties of the world that made his childish heart dream and inspired his most beautiful poems, which he wrote in a hurry in a discreet little notebook hidden under his mattress, ashamed. Of the awareness of being too sensitive for his sex, age and social class.
"And how the sky didn't look good,
And I wasn't getting better...
I said to myself "What misfortune"...
And the moon laughed at me..."
A childhood full of dreams, promises of unknown lands, unfinished bedtime stories...
Intertwined with the present. Of a brain that hadn't changed in its main characteristic: sensitive.
Always and still too sensitive.
For his sex, for his age, for his condition as a soldier.
María, what was he doing in this whirlwind of violence? Between vengeance and despair, a glimmer sometimes shone like a shepherd's star: the first to fade in situations of darkness. Yet it was his lighthouse, and without it, he'd be where he is today.
A murderer by necessity, having already put a bullet in a skull.
A monster by survival, unconsciously but carelessly consuming the raw, filthy body of a former classmate in the manner of a cannibal. No, Bertholdt was more than a former comrad.
He was a friend.
He was even a confidant. And how did he repay him? By inflicting the worst pain on him? By putting him between his teeth, ripping his head off, drinking his blood like a vampire?
And Eren dared to assert that Bertholdt was the monster, that he had nothing to be ashamed of?
Truly nothing to be ashamed of?
Ha! how he laughed in the dark night. No one could understand this torpor, this sense of injustice directed at his own person. This horror of his own being growing in his bones.
"Hey Armin, this is where I belong." Nonchalantly, the second character in our story inquired to join the boy. Tall, just as awake as his partner, with freckles revealing themselves under the peculiar light, Jean introduced himself. Sitting next to him, immediately putting an arm around the shorter boy's shoulders, he held a cigarette in his hand.
"Jean, I've already told you not to smoke near me. I hate the smell and I'm sure it can give you health problems..."
"Oops, sorry. I knew you weren't in the mood, but that dry tone won me over. I'll turn it off right away."
"And put it in your pocket. Cigarettes don't mix well with clay..."
"Wow, okay chief..."
Once this had been done by the newcomer, a wait for a new order was felt.
"And then, if you don't mind, you can come closer to me now..."
"I knew it...." With a victorious tone, Jean took the liberty of sitting close to him, sticking their ribs together, then once again passing that protective arm over his body, this time on his back, resting his hand on his spine.
"How are your aches and burns? Are you as good as new now?"
"The physical pain is gone.*
"I'm so glad. It's great to have been able to regenerate so quickly. If you only knew how scared we were for you..."
"I know, I know. You've all told me."
Surprised by the blond's usually gentle use of dry, rapid verbiage, the taller boy preferred to remain silent. Armin looked ready to explode. Jean knew it, he could see people and sense how they were built: this sensitive boy would only get rough if there was a strong impact. And this roughness was proof of a tenfold increase in his sensitivity.
"But it must have been difficult for you, this change..."
"It was."
"Armin, don't try to pretend you're stoic. I know who you are and I know what happens when you act like this. If you want me to leave, I'll go somewhere else. But in the meantime, you look like you could use some company so I'll stay if you want to talk to me about something."
"What's that? I've got nothing to talk about. Thanks for saving my life."
"You're lying."
"I'm not lying."
"Yes, you are." Stated Jean, suddenly returning to a more serious state.
"No, I'm not."
"Then why do you keep stiffening?"
"For... My backache."
"Seriously, Armin? You expect me to believe this?"
".... Yes ? "
Jean only let out a sigh before leading Armin against him, and the latter relented without flinching. His head, adorned with blond hair, landed on his comrade's shoulder and tickled his own nostrils.
"You feel like you're responsible for the Commander's death."
"No, that's not the problem. The captain made it clear that it wasn't my fault and that I should live in his memory. Even if I still think that choosing me was the wrong decision, that's not what's bothering me. And yet it twists my guts... To think you don't even think about it..."
It sounded like a reproach.
"What are you talking about, Armin? "
That was it. That was it. He couldn't take it anymore, this suffering had to come out. And he was sorry it was Jean who had to go through it, but all he had to do was ask the wrong questions and not worry, like everyone else did.
"From Bertholdt. From Bertholdt, you... I murdered a friend. No, worse, I devoured him. Like a piece of... of... "It didn't take much for pure aches and pain to disfigure his face. "I killed him in the worst possible way, as if he were nothing, as if he weren't human and didn't deserve a peaceful rest. Damn it, Jean, I ate Bertholdt! I ate Bertholdt! And every time I take a bite of that meat, I imagine his suffering. And when I close my eyes, I relive the scene through his eyes and scream in pain. I tore off his head and drank his blood." Tears started to form under his tired eyes." I fed on his brains. Shit Jean, can't you see that makes me a monster?! A monster Jean! And that's what I see in the mirror every morning. And that's what I hear every time I speak. And every day I ask myself how I'm supposed to live knowing that I've tortured someone, that I've performed a cannibalistic act! So no! I'm not happy to have been brought back to life! Because I wasn't given my life back, It was robbed of Bertholdt's! His blood and energy are replacing mine! And I hate above all the feeling of being a thief, of being this kind of parasite..."
And the rest of his pleading ended up muffled by his sobs and Jean's shirt, in which his face took refuge. Armin came to burrow into the hollow of his chest and wrap his arms around him, looking for a hold, a reassuring place. Jean himself was reassuring.
"I hear you Armin, I understand your point of view. And I know Eren can't improve your feeling of not being listened to." He gave drew little affectionate caresses on the blond's back. "I see your suffering and even if I can't understand it, I've heard your point of view which is irrefutable. I can see how important Bertholdt was to you, and now I can also see where it led you. I'm sorry I left you on the sidelines the last few days, when you needed it most." As the crying went on and on, Jean shifted into a better position.
"You must be experiencing this grief in a very special way, but the pain will eventually set aside, as all grief does. And I want you to know that when it's going to gets tough, I'll always be there to lend a hand and get you back on land. Seriously, you can count on me."
"Jean..."
"Yes, yes, let go. But it's after midnight and I think you're a little tired from all that shouting, aren't you? Let me see your face."
A glance revealed his meliorative intuition: Armin looked even more tired than before. It was the effect of crying on pale skin. Poor boy seemed ready to pass out any moment.
"I'm sorry I screamed... And cried like a baby..."
"It's stupid to apologize for that. You needed it. Period. I'm not going to yell at you for it, that would be stupid."
Jean let a tender smile break through his stoic face as Armin slid back against him.
"Okay. It's against the rules, but who cares? Tonight, you're sleeping in my pile so I can keep an eye on you. What's the matter? Don't look at me like that! I'm not a weird guy! I just want to make sure that.... Oh, screw it. Sleep alone,you deserve it. No, don't you dare laugh!"
"Jean, you're so funny sometimes."
"Sometimes? I'll make you eat your sometimes. I'm the funniest guy in the whole Survey Corps, are we clear?"
"We're clear... So, are we going to go to bed ? It's true that now I'm feeling a little dizzy... Maybe I could use some sleep... Or at least try to..."
"I knew you would."
And so the two boys made their way to veteran Kirstein's private room. Both dressed in boxer shorts - privacy was a limited concept in the Survey Corps - they settled into the small bunk, arms intertwined and legs fused, and began chatting away the night's fatigue.
"Hey Armin. We're so full of shit for not seeing how bad you were feeling. It's the first time in my life I've felt like kicking my own ass."
"It's nothing Jean, don't start hurting yourself, that would be a shame. Besides, it's true that it's not instinctive after everything that's happened. We've all had things to deal with since the revelations."
"Fucking revelations."
"Not just a little... A whole world behind the walls, can you believe it?"
"No, I don't think I realize. It just doesn't seem possible. For all we know, Eren's father was high when he wrote this book and it's all wrong."
Armin stifled a laugh against Jean's neck.
"Oh no, that wouldn't be his style. But... Imagine, all those beautiful girls walking the continents just waiting for you."
"Oh God, Armin."
"What? Wasn't it your dream to find a gorgeous woman and marry her off?"
The question seemed to be waiting for a specific answer. Armin was waiting for something that only Jean could offer through this dialogue.
"That was before. I've changed since the training corps."
A yawn was heard: Armin was about to sink into the cottony depths of sleep.
"Ah good.... What's changed?" he asked, his voice thick with fatigue. Realizing that the discussion would end there, Jean ran a hand through his partner's silky hair.
"My kind of preferred person. Come on, sleep tight Armin... We'll do it again tomorrow if you like."
"I'll need it every night, actually... Unless I want to go back on sleep deprivation..."
-That's fine by me.