Archive of Our Own

The gentle waves lolled pleasantly at the shore, wetting the sand over and over again in a perpetual rhythm Armin could never tire of. He had always believed observation was key to learning all the knowledge he’s acquired through the countless books he’s devoured multiple times in his life. The ocean is the most fascinating to him—just as mesmerizing as the moon that dominated the push and pull of it. 

Everybody is a slave to something.

The words rush to the front of his head, prodding at his brain and inducing a small ache Armin knows could easily grow into a proper migraine. In truth, Armin frequently experienced headaches ever since the rumbling four years ago. Diplomatic work and the stress of building solid ties between Paradis and the rest of the world took a toll on him, moreso because of the endless days and nights hunched over important paperwork. He supposes his plans of curating a book to recount all the events he’s endured do not help in his case. 

A few months ago, Armin had dug out all the journals he’s completed over the years documenting every little thing. Although the journals were a lifesaver, Armin couldn’t count the number of times he’d stayed awake in the dark, using the little bit of light from an oil lamp to write. In all honesty, Armin has a sinking suspicion he needed glasses, and a thought always nagged at the back of his mind. There was commander  Hange—and he can’t remember if commander Erwin ever wore glasses, but he finds it rather funny that with his brief title as a commander, he would properly fill in the shoes of his predecessors.

“You’re thinking of something silly again, aren’t you?” Mikasa’s voice slowly tugs him out of his head. A thin smile bears her lips, eyes warm and friendly. He can’t help but soften, thinking about how rare this sight was.

He offers a sheepish look as she rests her head on his shoulder once again. Mikasa had never particularly been a physical person, but after everything, she had clung to him the most. Armin had no complaints when he needed her just as much even though he did find solace in someone else—someone who was within his sight and presence nearly every minute of the day. 

Armin brushes it off shyly, “It’s something that would probably make Jean keel over in laughter.” To his mortification, he flushes even more with a soft sigh.

“I see,” She replies in that tone , telling him she was analyzing him again in that specific Ackerman way she did. It’s not as if he had tried his best to not bring him up. It was a lost cause either way; Mikasa could always pull the truth out of him and Eren with just a look. “Jean laughs at all your silly thoughts. More than Connie.”

That reminded him that he should probably write to him soon, and ask how he and his mother were doing. A familiar ache settles in his heart, feeding the organ with yearning and the need for closeness. The scouts all suffered from codependency, something he assumes is an after-effect of all the shared trauma and the years spent together, growing up. He didn’t like it when the others were too far away.

Armin grips the pencil in his hand tighter, a breeze ruffling the pages of his journal. “How long are you here for?” It was an obvious subject change, but Mikasa was never one to tease in the first place while the slight void in his tone was obvious enough as an insight into his headspace.

“I’m meeting Historia.” She lifts her head and sinks her toes into the sand. “I should probably leave so that I’m not late.”

As much as the idea of her parting for the time being makes his stomach jolt, Armin decides to tease her a bit despite his burning curiosity. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with her. Is she well?” He asks as if he doesn’t write to her nor visit her whenever she does have time for a social call. Although, he does suppose most of their meetings were for work.

To his surprise, Mikasa blushes, hiding behind the long and thick rivulets of her hair. 

Armin turns to face her with a slightly parted jaw. “ Mikasa?”

“She’s been very helpful in aiding me with the Hizuru.” She explains rather weakly, hunching into herself.

Another voice joins them all of a sudden. “Is that the only thing she’s been helpful in?” Jean shuffles through the sand with an easy smirk. He was already so beautiful under the golden sun, but his presence alone never fails to make his body thrum from excitement.

He chuckles nervously, slightly feeling bad for forcing Mikasa into a conversation that she was clearly not ready for. Armin eyed them both to gather if the air between them was tense or not but it seemed that the pink was already fading from her cheeks. He relaxes, body easily loosening once Jean has stopped behind them, seeing that the shadow on the ground in front of him was leaning forward. 

Armin grinned, tipping his head back to meet an upside down sight of Jean’s bright smile. The proximity of their faces surprises him, breathlessly releasing a small, “Jean!”

The scruff of his jaw, the long ash-brown hair loosely draped over his neck and the shadow of his straw hat casting on his face is stunning but not as stunning as the way his lips broaden. “Hello, my love.” 

Scratch everything he had said. That would forever be the most stunning to him—the warm syrupy feeling of being loved. They were just words, but Armin thinks there was a lot of hidden power in them. He should know this best as a writer.

Movement from the corner of his eye reminds him that they had company, and even though Mikasa was aware of their budding relationship, he still instinctively reigns it in. It’s less of them hiding or lying to their friends, but Armin thought it best to keep it for just themselves for the time being. The first to suspect anything was Levi, but that was guaranteed since he did live with them, and frankly, couldn’t care less.

“Hi,” Armin replies in a small voice, already expecting the swift peck to his lips. Although he craved for more, he decided he would have to be satisfied for now, gently easing away with a laugh. The angle had been off but it was still sweet like it typically was. As if helpless by his laughter, Jean merely ruffles the top of his head affectionately, his big hand sifting through his smooth hair.

When he casts a quick glance at Mikasa, she had her face trained towards the sea as she got up, a faint amused purse of her lips apparent. “I’ll be back for dinner.” She says before giving them each a wave and then trudging up the beach to the cliff. 

Jean brings a hand to the side of his mouth, “You know, there are certain rumors that spread in the castle–”

“Jean!” He shoots him a warning, smacking his chest with panic, “She’ll hear you!”

This sends him into a fit of laughter, swooping in to grab the hand still placed on his chest and bring it to his lips. Jean smacks a kiss to his knuckles and Armin simply flushes beet-red, sputtering. He wants to protest, tell him all of this was unnecessary but his throat just locks up at the sight of his warm eyes. It’s truly fitting and frustrating as hell that the only person to ever turn his mind blank was Jean Kirstein, his boyfriend of five months. His best friend of nine years.

“We have to make dinner…and check on Levi.” Armin ignores his smug expression, grateful that he easily helps him pick up his journals and doesn’t distract him further. 

Armin can already tell any thoughts of productivity for the rest of the day were over now that his mind has been supplied with Jean tenderly kissing his hand. He suppresses a pathetic groan. So, so frustrating. 

🐚

“What’s that?”

A voice from beside him pulls a sixteen-year-old Armin out of his trance. His eyes were wide, mouth still hanging open and his hands cupped, holding the object he’d first seen in his grandfather’s book at the age of eight. Hot tingles pinprick in his eyes, the emotional moment of here and now catching up to him all of a sudden. Armin swallows thickly, offering a bright smile.

Jean regards him and the object with slight trepidation mixed with curiosity. Pretty soon, recognition flares in his gaze and he whips his head up to meet his eyes. “Armin!” 

Droplets of water trail down his tanned face. His hair is impossibly drenched, falling into his forehead, and his clothes clung to his torso, the white shirt nearly transparent. Jean grabs his shoulder, “That’s a seashell!” He straightens up, reaching to gingerly run a finger over the ridges of the exo-skeleton.

The small bubbles of love and adoration travel from his stomach, up to his heart and to his ears where the waves roar. Jean is so silly, poking and prodding the seashell with his finger but it’s everything . Between Mikasa’s silent awe and Eren’s dismissal, Armin hadn’t expected anyone to pay proper attention to him. It was something he was used to—being on the sidelines, just a kid who had his nose stuck in a book, who knew too much and questioned everything.

Somehow, in the midst of it all, Armin had forgotten that as much as Jean shared Eren’s hotheaded attitude and impulsiveness, they were worlds apart.

“Armin?” Jean called out, mild concern shifting into a teasing grin, “Did the seashell sting you or something? Can seashells do that?”

Armin couldn’t believe it. He was asking him for more information. And it was stupid because Jean always— always listened to his rants, but his eyes were usually glassy as if he wasn’t really paying attention at all. It shouldn’t really be a surprise to him. Not really. Not when Jean was one of the smartest.

Armin laughed, fully turning his body to Jean, falling into his orbit as if it was the most natural thing to do. “No! Don’t be silly.” He giggles lightly. “But you’re right, it’s a seashell.”

Jean tips his chin up proudly, “Thought so.” He then loosens, eyes crinkling, “It’s beautiful.”

For no apparent reason, Armin feels heat spread to the tips of his ears. Jean was looking at him when he said that. “Do you want to hold it?” He blurts, attempting to relieve his nerves. 

“Sure,” He offers out his palms.

Armin smoothly slides the seashell into his hands, heartbeat thundering from the heat of their fingers brushing along during it. Jean immediately brings the seashell closer to his face so that he can inspect the warm glow of the interior under the sun. 

“Everything you told me was true,” Jean says then, the appraisal settling warmly in his stomach. The wind caresses the longer strands of his hair. It’s not the first time he’s noticed how handsome Jean was, but it’s certainly the first time he’d realized that he was a man . They both were standing here as men full of dreams and hope. “The ocean, the seashells,” He gestures towards his hands. “It’s all real.”

Armin tucks his hair behind his ears, overwhelmed as he nods and softly reaffirms, “It’s real.”

“That’s amazing.” He says with wonder and admiration, “You’re really something, Armin.” 

He’s trying his best not to read too much into it, but he’s failing miserably and Armin can not stop himself from blooming like a sunflower. Jean was so confident when he complimented him this easily, just like he had during the 57th expedition. 

I knew you were a capable guy.

Armin had never fallen in love with people before. He loved his friends but to him, objects like seashells, his favorite books and places like the tree up the hill in Shiganshina, filled him to the brim with content. 

Armin had never fallen in love. 

But he’s sure that it must feel like the gentle waves crashing into his legs, fighting against his solid form.

🐚

Armin jerked awake, a sob seized between his throat muscles as his heartbeat pulsed quickly in his ears. He had whipped his head up so fast, his vision was blurry and slowly reappearing one beat at a time. 

Looking down, Armin noticed the collar of his shirt was soaked with sweat and found that his cheeks were damp from tears as well. He wiped it away and dabbed at his eyes with a small sniff. I should stop falling asleep at my desk , he scolds himself, trying to push the miserable sense of unease and sadness away. Despite it, Bertholdt’s sunken face, stripped of skin, haunts the corners of his brain.

Armin inhales deeply and shuts his eyes when he exhales, resting a palm to his racing heart which slowly eases. Once he believes he’s regained some of his composure, he shakily wedges a pencil between the pages of his journal and shuts it. His throat aches and he makes his way through the dark corridors in search of the kitchen. 

An oil lamp flickers from the room, and for a second Armin assumes they’d all forgotten to blow it out until he sees a body standing in the corner of the kitchen, hunched over a counter. Panic courses through his veins once again as he exclaimed in alarm, “Captain Levi!”

Although he’d constantly insisted they all call him ‘Levi’ as there was no use for such titles anymore, he and others would sometimes slip in times of panic. Armin internally cringes at the way Levi narrows his eyes at that. With one of his eyes glazed over and that scar down the side of his face, Levi was just as intimidating as the day Armin had met him. However, he also knew him far too well, and to someone like Armin who had faced so much death and destruction, he found it difficult to cower in his presence any longer. And that wasn’t because Levi used walking sticks and a wheelchair for mobility. 

He points to his face, “You have pencil marks on your cheek.”

Armin blushes as he rubs at his skin, hoping he got most of it out. By the glance Levi sends his way, he knows he hasn’t, but he gives up and decides to just let it be. “Is there something I can get you?” Levi regards him with a typical Ackerman look. It’s nothing he isn’t used to. “Did you have a nightmare as well?” He asks instead while he fills two cups with water, offering one to his former captain. 

Levi’s whole body strains, wound-up like he’s about to snap. He shakily grips his temple. The last time he had witnessed him like this was when they’d been finally freed of diplomatic life and had permanently moved into his beach house seven months ago.

“I’m…” Levi starts, staring emptily out the window to the high tides of the evening. “I’m tired.” It’s as if wording it out loud was the final nail in the coffin because he seemed to shrink further into the cold and hollow shell of his body. His fists tighten by his sides. “All my friends are dead and I’m tired.” His voice gains momentum near the end.

Armin remembers it vividly and yet he can’t remember what he’d responded with at all. He might’ve told him something commander Erwin would say. Not all your friends , you still have us, or something along the lines of: You can rest now, Levi. He shakes his head. No, he’s never been good at masquerading as the one man his former captain respected. Levi would see right through his bullshit. But he did manage to convince him to live with them.

That certain thought forms into his mind in Jean’s voice.

Levi eagerly gulps down the whole glass of water in one go. Armin takes a few sips of his own, resting against the edge of the counter. “It was Bertholdt this time—” He decides to break the ice first. “—Or well, Eren too…” He trails off to drink more water in attempts of curing this big immovable ache in his throat. “But mostly Bertholdt. His memories, his feelings throughout his life, his fear when my titan form ate him, begging me to stop.” Armin exhales a rough breath and presses the glass of water to his forehead.

Sometimes, even he can’t tell if it was the phantom affection Bertholdt felt for Reiner, or Armin’s own memories of the older brother he confided in as boys in the training corps that made him miss his friend. 

Everything had happened for a reason. Because Eren made it so and this train of thought always led to a confusing mess of what ifs and the concepts of free will and fate. Armin could tear his hair out if it didn’t incite him to research more into the subjects as well. 

If only Eren were here. 

His brain screeches to a halt. It was perhaps far too late in the night to be going down this particular road.

Either Levi had seen his internal struggle and had shown him mercy by distracting him from the rabbit hole he was falling into, or he felt comfortable enough to open up. He wouldn’t bet his money on the latter.

“Erwin,” says Levi, not appearing as if he’ll elaborate any further. The harsh lines crinkle further on his forehead as his eyebrows draw down.

Armin watched him slowly rinse the glass, water whooshing intensely within. He was as persistent and thorough as always, washing the glass as if he had personally dirtied it himself. However, the more he observed, the more it seemed Levi was attempting to erase something else. Whether it was his past, the memories that haunted him or the things his mind conjured up for him at night, Armin couldn’t tell.

The sound of the tap closing rings loudly in the air, the soft plip-plop of water droplets falling at the bottom of the sink before silence welcomed them.

“You don’t always have to help me,” Levi says, a hint of an accusation apparent.

“Don’t I?” Levi makes that face he knows he only does when he's fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re my friend.” He points out as gently as he could manage.

Something about this statement makes Levi unwind, eyes slightly widening. Armin supposes he doesn’t generally use that term to describe their relationship, but he thinks it suited them. 

Nonetheless, with Levi’s guard down, it was easy to usher into his side before he could come to his senses and protest. Levi would never complain but Armin could tell using a walking stick took a toll on him while he absolutely refused to use a wheelchair unless he knew he was traveling far. Most of the time, Jean and Armin would push him into one to take him out in the city. Jean tells Levi he’ll turn senile if he stays cooped up in his room or the community center he helped out at.

He puts a hand on Levi’s waist, pulling his left arm in so that it rests around Armin’s shoulder. Even though they didn’t have much of a height difference, he stoops in lower to make it more comfortable for him. Levi tenses at first, mouth already parting in complaint until he resigns a few seconds later, just like Armin knew he would. 

Levi grumbles under his breath as they make it down the corridor, “That bastard could’ve at least left the Ackerman powers alone.”

Armin has to bite the inside of his cheek to resist laughing. 

After successfully escorting Levi to his room, he shuffles into his bedroom as quietly as he can. He yawns wide in the dark, suddenly feeling his entire body ache, only worsening from the slight strain on his neck he always experienced from working. And sleeping at the desk , his mind helpfully supplies. This too, sounds an awful lot like Jean’s voice in his head.

Armin changes into his pajama bottoms and removes his shirt, not only because it’s fairly warm tonight, but because Jean always slept without a shirt on and he needs the skin-to-skin contact. The tanned planes of Jean’s bare back illuminate under the moonlight as Armin slowly slides under the covers. He didn't want to disturb him, but Jean looked far too cute in his sleep, his cheek squished into the pillow and a bit of drool trailing down the corner of his mouth. Armin stifles a fond laugh, already feeling ten times more at ease in his presence as he pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

This seems to stir him awake because he inhales deeply then, a faint and sleepy smile growing on his lips which Armin easily mirrors. “Turn over,” Jean’s voice is deep and gruff from sleep. His face warms at the memory of those words being uttered under different circumstances but he pushes any of those thoughts away.

Pull yourself together, Armin!

He shifts to his other side, slotting himself along Jean’s body and fitting perfectly in his arms. Jean always ran hot, but Armin didn't mind the heat of his body pressed flush against his back. How could he when he felt the faint thud of his heartbeat the same way Jean could feel his with his hand curled in the middle of Armin’s chest, melding them together. 

Jean tightens his grip, moving his leg up so that he could throw it over Armin’s hips and draw him even closer. Armin giggles when Jean sinks his face into his shoulder, smacking several kisses in the space between his neck and jaw. With his facial hair, the prickly sensation is ticklish to his sensitive and plain skin, but Armin wouldn’t have it any other way. He instinctively nuzzles into it, enjoying the graze. It was raw and real.

“Missed you.” The words slip out of Armin’s mouth with a melancholic lilt.

The moment strains, his heartbeat thundering at his ears and he’s sure Jean can feel it. It’s painfully obvious the words were substituting for what he really wanted to say. I love you. Armin isn’t sure if he’s ever told him he loved him even as friends. He doesn’t think he’s ever said it to anyone besides Eren and Mikasa.

Jean’s lip brush along his neck, muffled. “You miss me, eh?” He can feel him smiling, so sleep-warm and perfect. 

“Mm-hm,” He responds, yawning once again. It’s so effortless to succumb to the comfort of being held by Jean. 

“Is everything okay?” The question makes him blink out of his sleepy daze. He remembers when they were younger and how they would stay up all night talking about constellations, plants, the meaning of life— anything to distract themselves from the nightmares.

Armin makes a small sound, “Mn.” He kisses the inside of Jean’s palm, right above his wrist and replies softly, “It is now.”

🐚

Tea time, like breakfast and dinner, was an affair of its own no one tried to miss. Jean insists eating together was a bonding experience but Armin knew his boyfriend was also a pure family man and his mother’s son. With that in mind, he can assume that it was another excuse to pull everyone out of their work and force them to take a break because Jean knew how they could all lose track of time. 

He can’t remember the number of times Jean has found him cooped up in a corner, reading or writing, especially in the past few years. Jean would pull him into a walk through the city where they would wind up at either a small cafe or a bar if it was nighttime. Looking back at it now, Armin can’t help but smile, thinking of how silly they were. How Armin’s heart always soared as they shared pastries and how flushed Jean got when he drank. It’s what made it worse when their work required them to separate. Armin despised it, but…

It was all worth it in the end, wasn’t it? The question drifts across his mind as Armin tethered himself to the present moment—to right now , him standing in front of the house he had bought with all his friends. A house that overlooked the sea, where he could constantly hear the rush of water, calming him. A home he shared with his lover and his closest friends, where he didn’t have to worry about politics or international relations, and the fact that they would probably never be welcomed back to Paradis entirely. But this was home , this was forever.

Armin inhaled the salt air, the surge of affection rising up his throat, shutting his eyes to feel the evening breeze caress his face. Sometimes, Armin would forget he was happy and that he deserved to be. It’s everything Eren had sacrificed for him after all, so why should he let it go to waste?

He treks down the make-do steps along the cliffside to the beach where Jean had set up a sitting area with tea and pastries. Mikasa had left a few days ago to meet the Azumabito but Levi being missing wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary either considering he had barked on and on about not wanting to be the intruder when it was just the three of them. Especially when it came to a romantic evening at the beach. Jean must share Armin’s thoughts on wanting to spend alone time together because usually he would be persistent about group activities, but he just grins brightly at the sight of him.

“Armin!” He excitedly ushers him over. 

He could never tire of the way Jean said his name as if it were a term of endearment itself, or like a secret only the two of them knew about. It was intimate, how his name rolled off of his tongue, like it was meant to be uttered by Jean alone. 

“Look! I found more seashells,” Jean presents tiny ones in his hands and Armin’s mouth falls into a small ‘o’, intrigued by the size. They had turned it into a game to collect any they could find and he’s always managed bigger seashells rather than small ones. 

Even when they were in the survey corps, Jean and Armin would find flowers and leaves so that they could press them inside books and gather them in a box as a keepsake of their discoveries. It makes him wonder if they still had that box. Most of their personal belongings had been either lost or destroyed, but he does remember they’d stored what was left in the attic. Armin makes a mental note to go through it some day. 

“They’re beautiful—and so cute!” Armin gasps, picking one up with a helpless pout from just looking at how tiny it was between his fingers. However, they looked even more miniscule in Jean’s hands. He nearly sighs at the thought.

Something on his face must’ve given him away for Jean simply reserves a small smirk in his direction, swooping in to peck the tip of Armin’s nose. “Not as beautiful and cute as you.” He simpers, his warm breath on his face doing nothing to help his pink cheeks.

“I should tell you that,” Armin retorts, lowering his gaze to Jean’s lips, “ Mon chéri .”

Just as expected, Jean makes a high sound in his throat, features set in awe and eyes darkening. He lets out a surprised laugh, and then leans in ever so slowly to kiss Armin’s smile. Their teeth knock into the kiss and a hiccup of laughter muffles between their lips. So soft . Armin could kiss him for eons. 

“When did you—?” Jean pauses to shiver slightly when Armin cups his jaw, rubbing a thumb into the prickly skin. “—start learning french?”

“I haven’t yet, but I bought a book so that I could get in your mother’s good graces.” Jean, who was kissing him in between his explanation, fiercely presses one last bruising kiss to his lips. 

“That’s ridiculous, she already loves you.” He passionately argues, finally setting the seashells into the pocket of his vest. “You’re perfect.”

“More perfect than her Jean-boy?” Armin kisses the high point of his pink cheek with a grin.

Jean grumbles, “Laugh all you want, Arlert,” A playful lilt to his tone lets him know he wasn’t truly upset and he patiently waits for Jean to pour him his tea.

Armin takes the steaming teacup and burrows it close to his face to bask in the warmth. “Thank you, Kirstein,” He hums playfully, setting his eyes on the pink, purple and orange painted above the horizon of the ocean. Armin wished he had Jean’s artistic skills so that he could draw this magnificent view. “We should visit her soon. Or we could invite her.”

“She did say she doesn’t get to see the beach as often.” Jean takes a sip, prompting him to do the same. The warm liquid travels down his body, providing such a simple comfort that he can’t help but sigh at. Jean had learned how to brew tea from Levi, spending days perfecting until the former captain had been satisfied. He later began tweaking the taste such as adding a teaspoon of honey for Armin. He always had a bit of a sweet tooth.

Amused, Jean covers a proud smile by taking another sip. “Then it’s settled. I’ll write to her in the morning.” He sets the cup down to uncover the crème brûlée.

Armin gasps for the second time that evening, lowering his teacup, “Jean…” The glazed dessert was topped with berries and it looked absolutely delicious. “You’ve outdone yourself now.”

“You haven’t even taken a bite! Here, tell me what you think,” Jean scoops a spoonful, making sure to add a strawberry before directing it to his mouth.

His heart throbs with affection as he accepts the dessert, eager to get a taste. Jean’s talent in the kitchen was surely one he inherited from his mother, while on the other hand, Armin had absolutely no gift for cooking or baking. He often managed to put too much salt or burn the food—which Jean found hilarious due to the fact that he’d been the colossal titan. Not to mention, Armin was surprisingly clumsy, and this Jean had found to be endearing because he couldn’t move past the fact that he’d survived this long in the survey corps—and being the commander on top of that, even if it had been for a short while. 

For this, he couldn’t be more grateful to have Jean in his life—his perfect Jean. What did I do to deserve you?

As soon as the flavors burst on his tongue, Armin lights up, allowing the cream to savor in his mouth before he swallows. “It’s marvelous!” The enthusiasm and the word choice makes Jean laugh.

“Is it?” As confident as he was, Jean needed the extra praise to believe he was good enough when it came to his personal projects. Armin nods up and down a few times.

“You have to try too,” He makes a motion to hand the spoon over so that he can scoop some for him. Armin tries not to blush under Jean’s incredibly fond gaze as he waits to be fed, but he isn’t sure if it's the rush of the ocean waves or his own boisterous heartbeat deafening him from the eye contact he manages to maintain.

Jean licks his lips before pausing to chew and rate his work and he thinks it’s truly a wonder how Armin doesn’t lose himself in his light-brown orbs or his slightly slick mouth. He tilts his head, “Well?”

Jean tips his face once, mouth curved, “It tastes good when you’re the one feeding me.”

“Jean!” Although he was smiling, he shook his head with exasperation, already scooping another but for himself this time. 

His boyfriend only pouts at that, making Armin giggle as he pops the spoon in his mouth. “You play dirty.” He says, giving no warning before he pounced onto Armin from the side, reeling him in by a strong grip around his waist. 

The position allows his head to rest perfectly against Jean’s firm chest but whether it was Jean’s strength or Armin’s low defenses, they somehow topple over. His breath whooshes out of his lungs as Armin finds himself lying on top of Jean, their legs intertwined and chests pressed together. Armin barely managed to keep upright at the last second, both palms digging into the sand and bracketing Jean in between. 

Jean’s eyes widened in surprise, their faces mere centimeters apart with the tips of their noses just brushing enough to tickle him. Armin smiles slowly, mesmerized at how Jean melts beneath him at the sight of it. The arm around his waist tightens and Jean wraps the other around him too so that he can’t move away. Not that he wanted to in the first place.

It makes him giggle softly and bite his lower lip. “Hello, there.”

In response, Jean nuzzles his nose further into his. “Hi. Fancy seeing you here.”

Armin shakes with laughter, the pleasant heat of his body only fueling the fire in his gut. The waves were starting to creep closer and closer up the beach because he felt the wet sand on his feet. It only made him want to float in the water so that he could feel the waves roll beneath his back.

The first two buttons of Jean’s shirt are open, revealing the patch of hair on his chest. He suppresses a swoon but it wasn’t difficult to do so when Armin couldn’t stop himself from the sentimental emotion it brought forth into him as well. He’d truly watched him grow into a man in front of his eyes, and now, nearly twenty-three years old, Armin knew in his heart he wanted to experience the rest of his life together with Jean. He wanted to grow old with him, and sit here at the beach, hand-in-hand as they watched the sunset with age lines and wrinkled skin. Armin thinks he must be blessed to have the opportunity to do so, hope brimming inside him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jean asks then as Armin traces the small patch of hair with a soft sigh.

“Do you think Levi and commander Erwin were in love?”

It’s not what Armin had intended to say, but his brain often worked at a faster pace than others could keep up with. Neither could he at times. However, if there was anyone who could manage to sync with him, it would be Jean, and Armin can visibly note all the cogs turning in his beautiful head. His expression falls into a thoughtful one, mild concern present.

“Oh…Armin,” started Jean, fingers digging into his hips.

Armin offers a small smile and plants a kiss upon his lips in reassurance, “I’m fine, Jean…” He trails off, eyes catching onto a crab crawling across the sand in the distance. “It’s a theory I’ve had for quite a while.”

Jean brushes the stray strands of Armin’s hair away from his face and tucks them behind his ear, gaining his attention in return. “What makes you think that?”

He loved how Jean always validated him and indulged him in all the thoughts that crossed his mind. Although, Armin does suppose he has a habit of doing the same with him.

“Many reasons—one being that he often has nightmares or dreams about him,” He explains, slipping into the pandora’s box that was his brain, “Sometimes it’s the way he looks at me. At us.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “And how does he look at you?”

Armin lets out a small puff of laughter, petting his chest as if he were an anxious horse. “Easy there.” Amused, he watches Jean’s possessiveness shift into a more playful front as he loosened up at the petting. “I just meant I think he sees the ghost of him in me—of them in us…And maybe it’s selfish to be happy that we get to have this, but Jean, I’m so happy that we do.” He says, gaining momentum near the end.

“Armin…” He presents him with a sad smile. It seems he doesn’t know how to respond so he just rests his forehead against his. Their eyes fall shut as they share a long breath. “We’re the luckiest sons of bitches, huh?” Jean whispered between them.

He kisses his chin, then nods as he shifts up to straddle him, dragging both of his hands down Jean’s chest smoothly. Armin could map the solid planes of muscle even through the clothes, and although it had been years since any of them had trained, he knew he was strong. They both were despite having grown softer, sweeter, and alive. He notices then that Jean seemed affected by the touches, and with Armin in his lap, he couldn’t blame him for his reaction.

Armin swallows past the thickness in his throat, feeling dizzy by the way Jean’s ginormous hands trail lower and lower down his hips. He goes back to all the times he’s told him how fascinated he was by his slim waist, claiming it was sinful. Armin had never considered himself and his body alluring, but Jean somehow managed to make him out to be a siren, beckoning a lost, innocent man at sea.

“Jean,” He starts, breaking a bit of the tension. It works because he releases a soft breath, physically feeling the body beneath him relax. Armin smiles, meeting his eyes with pink coated cheeks and despite it, this brave little thing inside his head and his heart agreed he had nothing to be afraid of. “I love you,” He tells him and almost immediately a weight pushes off his chest.

An emotion rises up his throat, dripping out of his mouth like a giggle. The relief and joy in professing his love felt so good. He didn’t think it would be like this—so freeing. Jean chooses that moment to sit up, the proximity of their faces making it clear that his eyes were shimmering from tears. His heart pinches at the sight, and he thumbs at a stray tear escaping from the corner.

Jean chuckles wetly, embarrassed but Armin thought he was the sweetest man alive. “Dammit, you beat me to it, Arlert.” Feigned annoyance drips from his tone, eliciting him into a small giggle as Jean pulls him close, cupping his face tenderly.

“Such a sweetheart,” Armin teases, watching him blush prettily, “You were going to plan something big, weren’t you?”

A heavy sigh is his response, confirming his guess. “Maybe…”

Armin stifles another set of laughter, kissing his cheek, “I love you so much, Jean.”

He inhales sharply, “I love you so much, Armin.”

His heart skips at the confession, and he’s fully aware he must be glowing with the most radiant smile on his face. Jean leans in and Armin mumbles against his lips, “I know.” He can taste the crème brûlée on his tongue and can feel the love at every brush of their slick lips. It’s everything and yet not enough. “I’m sorry about your plans,” He kisses him again, arching against him the same way Jean curves along his frame. “What were they?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Jean’s hands travel up his back, steering him in until they’re chest to chest. “For now…” The soft press of his lips and the hushed tone is a dichotomy to what he tells him next, “my plans include taking you to bed.”

🐚

Living in the outskirts had Armin forget how much warmer the main parts of the city were. With him growing his hair out, it easily clung to his nape due to his sweat. He wondered how Jean was able to manage, but his was far longer and he usually tied it up in a way that reminded him of Eren. 

Jean was more handsome , Armin thinks, his biased opinion presenting itself, but he surely wasn’t the only one who thought so. Especially when they were out as a group, they often gathered attention from people recognizing them from the papers. Tension had lowered significantly within Paradis from the help of community work and Historia’s influence, but they never truly let their guard down. However, Armin does consider it helped being handsome or appealing to the public for it was particularly common for Jean to get in their good graces.

Even as they walked through the busy street, full of vendors and stalls, Armin noted stray looks of intrigue at Jean in his best suit, at Mikasa in her pretty pink dress, and at Levi in the wheelchair. It never failed to rub him the wrong way when they gave odd looks at Levi, or when men took it upon themselves to court Mikasa despite her public vow declaring she wouldn’t ever marry. Although, Armin did wonder if this was still the case now that her and Historia were officially secretly dating…

A rambunctious group of giggles tears his attention towards the source which just so happens to be a few women eyeing Jean from across the street. They appeared to be of higher class by the way they dressed, meaning they were likely from the capital but were vacationing somewhere near the beach for a summer getaway. 

As if he could hear his thoughts, Armin suddenly finds himself meeting Levi’s unimpressed gaze once they had stopped at a flower stall. He failed to keep his expression blank, feeling extremely warm under the heat of the sun even his hat couldn’t spare him from. Fighting a defeated sigh, he sheepishly turns his attention towards Mikasa who was busy choosing flowers with Jean.

Armin recognized the strelitzia being carefully placed aside the dandelions. Eren’s favorites. Both flowers symbolized freedom from enslavement and independence, but whereas the strelitzia had a spiked structure, the dandelions were soft. There was a lot to be said there , Armin thought, eyes set on the flaming orange and blue strelitzia, otherwise known as the bird of paradise. 

His throat clogs despite the smile. “Those are pretty,” said Armin, his voice raspy.

Mikasa nods, pulling several coins out of her pouch, “Will you come with me to visit him?”

“Of course.” Armin softens, reaching forward to intertwine their pinky fingers together.

There were pretty girls in this world—most of them he had probably never laid eyes on, but Mikasa was the prettiest so it was only fitting she paired with the second most beautiful woman in his eyes. She deserved happiness.

Her wobbly smile makes her skin glow pink and her eyes crinkle. With her already being so tall, the small heels on her shoes added to Mikasa’s height. She leans in to brush her lips against the corner of his cheek in one swift movement that comes and goes in a blink of an eye. Armin chuckles at this, squeezing her pinky finger once before letting go.

From behind her, Jean has his arms folded, a challenging smirk on his face. “Oh, what do we have here?” He hears Levi mutter something beneath his breath and Mikasa takes that as her cue to step out of the way with a small shake of her head.

Armin grins, Jean stepping into his atmosphere and blocking the sun, making it easier to peer up at his self-confident, enticing mouth. Public displays of affection were rare since it was better for them all to stay under the radar but Armin forgets all about his worries when Jean is looking at him like that. Like he’s the only one he ever sees.

As slow as Jean is with his movements, Armin’s body feels syrupy when his fingers come up to tilt his chin. There were many, many people around and yet he succumbs to it, to Jean’s soft lips meeting his own. Armin sighs in appeasement, lightheaded from the affection he has for this man. The kiss is not perfect and their hats got in the way but to Armin it meant more than that, it wasn’t just a kiss to him.

“ Tch ,” Levi scoffs, bringing it to his attention that he was looking at the women from before, who were now huffing at the display. Same-sex couples weren’t as common on Paradis but their world had opened up, inviting foreigners, ideas and lifestyles.

Jean briefly narrows his eyes at them and then returns a gentler gaze towards Armin as he asks the flower stall owner for baby’s breath. After he pays for it, Jean promptly tucks them carefully into the front pocket of Armin’s suit, right above his heart. “There we go.” Satisfied, Jean admires his work.

Love. Sincerity. Purity.

Jean had certainly been doing his homework. Or perhaps all the late-night ramblings had caught up to him.

Armin turns to buy another bunch of baby’s breath. He brings the coins out to pay and thanks her as she hands it to him.

“Sneaky.”

Armin gives him a look, placing the flowers in Jean’s front pocket so that they could now match. “Sneaky like the way I managed to wriggle into your heart?”

As Mikasa had said, Jean laughed the hardest at his jokes and this time would be no exception. An outsider would wonder if the two of them had gone mad, but this was not the reason why a blush works its way up his cheeks. It’s Levi and Mikasa’s mirrored expressions of mild and barely restrained judgment. 

However, he does later notice Mikasa lingering by the flower stall again to buy a single rose, an unsure shyness pouring from her as she tucks it in the basket next to Eren’s flowers. Armin pursed his lips to halt the growing smile and pretended he didn’t see it at all.

🐚

Armin stirs awake in the middle of the night to a whimper.

His body instantly went into fight or flight mode from the years of being in the scouts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sits up to find the source of the restless sounds. It only took him another second to note how Jean was curled up beside him with his palms covering his ears. A piece of his heart shattered at his trembling form.

“Oh, Jean…” He says gently into the darkness that loomed from every corner save from the slim ray of moonlight hitting the floor right next to the bed.

Armin soothingly pushes back the hair away from Jean’s face, fingernails grazing into his scalp the way he knew he enjoyed. “Shh, I got you.” He whispered above his covered ears.

He then presses featherlight kisses to his sweaty temple which does little to relax him. Worry gnawed at his insides but Armin continued to softly run his hand up and down his bicep in a gentle rhythm hoping it would make a difference soon. He can still feel his own heartbeat at his throat as he draped himself along Jean’s body, plastering them together.

Nightmares had gotten less frequent ever since they began sharing a bed, but Armin is well aware trauma wouldn’t stop haunting them so easily. It would take years of talking through the pain, and sharing their burdens together for it to eventually wither away. Perhaps they may never recover, but Armin is an optimistic man. He aims to create more happy memories to wash away the gruesome parts of their past.

Sometimes he wishes he could be born anew—such as the way they described it in different religions. To be completely rid of the darkness and his sins. Armin wondered what that would be like, what he would be like.

Eventually, after an agonizing amount of time, Jean stops shaking. His hand comes down from his ears to tightly grab onto Armin’s hand. He doesn’t waste a second in linking their fingers fiercely enough to turn their knuckles white, sinking closer into him.

Armin presses his lips into the junction where his shoulder meets his neck. “Mon amour.” My love.

Jeans exhales a shaky breath, unwinding the taut planes of his body. “Armin.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He murmurs against his skin, a thumb rubbing circles into Jean’s hand.

He audibly swallows, the click of his throat piercing the tense air. “You were still the Colossal Titan,” His voice was so raspy, but Armin goes against leaving him here in this state to get him a glass of water. “Thirteen years had passed and…” Jean’s body locked up once again.

Armin could fill in the gaps, devastation tearing through him as he blinked back the hot tears. “I’m here—I’m right here, Jean. It was just a dream.” He manages to tell him through a lump in his throat.

Jean releases another uneasy breath, but with it, he seems to loosen. Armin plants a tender kiss to his shoulder. “Here—look at me, I’m alive, yeah?” He mostly talks to distract him from his head as Jean turns over to face him. Although Armin can’t make out much in the dark, he tells him again, more softly this time, “I’m here.”

At this, Jean sinks his face into Armin’s chest and he takes that as a sign to pull him into his arms. He naturally plants a kiss to the top of his head, brushing his fingers through the locks of hair until he can physically feel Jean fall more and more pliant.

Armin barely hears him sob, voice muffled from the way his mouth is pressed against the middle of his chest. “Je t’aime, mon chérie.” 

I love you, my sweetheart.

Armin swallows another lump and smooths a palm down Jean’s spine. “Je t’aime, Jean.” He shivers under his touch, arching into it and greedy for more. “Sleep. I got you,” Armin repeated to put his mind more at ease.

He’s unsure if sleep comes easy for Jean after that, but before Armin’s eyes had fallen shut, he had seen the sunrise creep above the horizon through the window frame, the sky and sea seamlessly uniting as one.

🐚

The scratch of pencil on paper sets a pleasant rhythm along with the crash of thunder, rain beating down outside and the graze of Armin’s straight edge razor along the stretch of his skin. His hair was slowly drying as he stood in his towel, inspecting his face in the mirror. They had spent most of the morning swimming and splashing around in the water, sharing lazy kisses under the sun until dark clouds had appeared.

Armin wished to stand in the rain with his arms stretched out. Jean would’ve joined him in his madness but they both favored their health, and had run up to the house hand-in-hand, laughing like children with rapid heartbeats. Most of their youth had been stolen, but there’s nothing more beautiful than returning to what was lost with your favorite person by your side. He had made sure to relay that into every bruising kiss when they’d made it to the house, Armin sandwiched between the front door and Jean’s relentless mouth and body. 

However, the thought of being caught so blatantly by Levi had made them reconsider, and the concern they felt for his aching knee, which only worsened during rainy weather. So they had prepared a warm cloth for him, Levi merely grunting as they gave him orders to stay by the fireplace before they slipped into the bathroom for a hot bath.

Armin hadn’t planned on shaving until he saw the state of himself in the mirror, much to Jean’s dismay, who really wanted to sink into the tub. But it had been a while since he heard any complaints from him, as he had taken it upon himself to bring in his sketchpad to pass the time. Jean’s sole attention on him never failed to make his hair stand up and his body vibrate, and when Jean drew him, it only intensified further. Moreso when Jean himself was sitting on a stool with only a towel wrapped around his waist as well, muscles and a strong, tanned figure on display while he was entirely absorbed in his element. It’s a wonder how Armin hasn’t managed to nick himself with his blade.

His fingers shake when he’s finally satisfied that he’s gotten all the baby hairs as well. He sets his gaze on Jean, shuffling closer to see his sketch. Armin smiles at the drawing of himself shaving as he notices the smoother and thicker lines of his body outline and the delicate manner of how Jean drew his waist and his dainty fingers. 

“You always draw me so beautifully,” He praised, curling an arm around his shoulder and forcing Jean to put his sketchpad down so that he could meet his eyes.

Jean’s mouth curved upwards from the side, “It’s not so difficult when I have such a beautiful muse,” He says, fully enjoying how Armin’s cheeks are dotted with color.

Armin takes the sketchpad and puts it on the counter, removing the obstacle in the path of fitting himself between Jean’s legs. The towel slides up his thighs, revealing the coarse hair which never failed to make his mouth water. He exhales lightly, Jean’s warm hands finding their way to his waist, fingers creeping under the towel to the more sensitive areas and causing his stomach to flood with heat. 

“You’re so small, I could wrap my whole body around you,” Jean murmurs.

To demonstrate, he steers him in and sure enough, the width of Jean’s frame covers him entirely. Armin swallows, suddenly feeling as if his tongue was double the size. In truth, he’d always noticed it when they hugged or made love, thinking how it wasn’t only Jean carving himself deep inside him that brought Armin to completion, but the fact that he always felt safe beneath his wide frame. 

Jean was bigger and more muscular than him—and his cock was no exception. But this was what enticed him even more. To know that his body was more than what it seemed, that he was strong too no matter his own size. None of it mattered in bed either way since he was well aware of how appreciative Jean is about his body. He treasured it and made him feel loved. Armin’s only goal was to cherish him back—his soul and his physical self.

“You’re so wonderful,” Jean continues, planting a small kiss to the middle of his chest. You’re really something, Armin. “The commander and the Colossal Titan in such a powerful body.” Something inside him snaps at those words, clumping his throat with heavy emotions. Armin visibly shudders.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jean who just directs Armin’s face down for a kiss. All he can do is prepare himself for the impact, the magnetic pull of their lips like the moon and the waves. Jean releases a faint moan, smiling as he mouthed at the fresh skin around Armin’s mouth.

A chuckle escapes him, all of his insides melting. “Let me do yours if you like it so much.” Armin cradled his face, smoothing his thumbs into his jaw. Jean’s eyes flutter at the sensation.

“You like my facial hair,” He points out. It wasn’t a lie and the implication of why he liked it made his face burn. 

“Let me clean your handsome face up then,” Armin offers, continuing the massage to his jaw because he just liked to see his boyfriend turn docile in his hands.

“Alright,” Jean nods, opening his eyes, “As long as I get to trim your hair tomorrow,” He says, voice tapering into a question.

“Deal,” Armin pecks him on the lips, grinning as he grabs the shaving cream. “It’s been getting too long, hasn’t it?”

Jean brushes his fingers through the hair on his nape, “It’s nice. But I know it bothers you in the heat.”

More than being surprised, he feels warm from being observed so carefully. “Makes me itchy. I don’t know how I managed when I was younger.” He says, slathering the cream carefully around his mouth. His fingers sting from the small grains.

“I would’ve cut it for you then too, you know?” Confessed Jean into the quiet bathroom. Armin stilled. “I almost offered once—but I would’ve passed away if you’d agreed.”

Armin’s sudden laughter is soft and amused. “I would’ve too.” He admitted, retrieving the blade after kissing the tip of his nose. Their eyes had gone cross-eyed, making him momentarily purse his lip. “If only I’d been braver.”

“You’re braver than you think, mon chéri,” The words rattle inside his ribcage. He had said it so simply, as if it were waiting on the tip of his tongue.

Armin swallowed, silently watching Jean take his hand and kiss his palm, heartbeat fluttering at the spot. His sincere eyes were darker in the dim bathroom, but the love shone through despite it. “We’re all brave in our own ways.” He replied.

Jean offered him a small agreeable smile then promptly straightened his face for Armin. He takes that as a green light to continue, gently tipping his boyfriend’s head up by the chin. Leaning in closer, he uses two fingers to stretch the area before dragging the blade slowly so as to not burn his sensitive skin. 

The region he was working on was small and wouldn’t take much time since practice had made him perfect. He goes through the motions several times in a gentle pattern while Jean trained a glassy gaze up at him. Armin tried not to get lured into his trap, attempting to concentrate at the task at hand. Whereas Armin had full lips, Jean’s mouth was slimmer, forcing him to be tentative. He didn’t want to accidentally cut his pretty lips.

Armin traces the rim with a thumb to feel out any stubble he had missed. Jean, who had been fairly silent and still this entire time, sighed at the touch, his mouth parting just barely. Amused, Armin just smiles and follows the curve of his bottom lip to swipe at the shaving cream. The prickle of Jean’s stubble was pleasant on his face and his body, between his thighs and the softest, most intimate areas. But he could still work with the rest of the facial hair, not entirely mourning the loss after properly shaving around his mouth.

Oftentimes, it felt as if Armin lacked in demonstrating his affection, always short of words and actions. With the amount of love he felt, Armin struggled conveying it, his logic frequently commbatting with his heart. 

“So?” Brown eyes meet his and Jean tilts his head as if to strike a pose, “Am I more handsome yet?”

However, Jean constantly brought them back to the basics, forever reading him like a book.

Armin reaches for a face towel and gently dabs away the excess cream. “You’ll always be the most handsome man to me.” A smug grin. “Come on…” He unwraps the towel around his waist and folds it over the counter. “Before the water gets cold.” Jean doesn’t need to be told twice and he watches him follow suit. 

Although the sight of nude body isn’t anything new, it still brings color to his cheeks and Jean catches his eyes, grinning until his eyes slimmed. Armin mirrors it, chuckling when he takes his hand when they enter the tub. The water sloshes, bubbles foaming against their skin as they settle in, resting their backs on opposite ends. Armin releases a content sigh, shutting his eyes and sinking further into the warmth, physically feeling every bit of tension evaporate.

The tub wasn’t big enough for two but neither seemed to mind how their limbs knocked against each other, knees and feet aligned. Armin wriggled his toes when he felt contact with Jean’s skin who, like always, matched his playfulness by grabbing his ankle and tickling him. He tried not to jostle the water too much when he jerked back with a laugh, but Jean didn't allow him to pull away, a familiar look in his eyes. 

Armin reached in to meet him in the middle, resting his chin on his knee to watch Jean cup a bit of foam into his hands and apply over his jaw. “You’re so silly,” He tells him, voice too fond even to his own ears.

“And to think you all thought I didn’t have a sense of humor when we were younger.” There’s no heat to it.

“No,” Armin mused and shook his head, “I noticed how you, Sasha and Connie used to goof around. You weren’t always in on the joke—well, unless it came to Eren, of course.”

Jean made a face, an expression mixed with bittersweet melancholia. “I miss that asshole.” He tangles his wet hands into Armin’s hair, nails raking his scalp so pleasantly that he can’t help but make a pleased sound.

He grins and closes his eyes, “You were an asshole too. You were always the first to start fights.” Jean smooths over his hair to properly wet them, pulling it away from Armin’s forehead. “At first I thought it was because of Mikasa. But then you stopped…during Marco…after him too.”

“Damn, and I thought I was subtle. You notice everything.” A bit of humor finds its way into his tone. 

They never talked about him anymore. In fact, the last time they did was when they were fifteen and he’d found a broken down Jean outside the barracks. After then, it was all they discussed for weeks until Jean had accepted his death. Armin knew he still carried Marco within him, though. It’s just the way Jean was built—to love passionately and deeply. It’s one of the reasons why he’d fallen in love.

“Mn,” Armin hummed, “About you, yes.”

They both knew it was more than that. Armin was chosen as a commander for a reason and he’d led them to reach this point.

“Which is why you realized I had feelings for you first.”

“A few years too late…” Armin chewed the inside of his cheek.

“But we got there,” He pointed out, planting a kiss beside his brow. “Besides, we were too busy saving the world.”

Armin curled into himself and Jean’s touches, feeling as if his internal organs might fail him if his love for him grew. How was it possible to love someone this much?  

“You’re right,” He manages a smile, recognizing another typical Jean Kirstein glint in his eye. 

Just as he’d predicted, Jean runs his hand down Armin’s face to cup his jaw and kiss him soft and slow. Their mouths part in tandem, a second to pause before their noses brush and angle their heads to deepen the kiss. Armin exhales, pushing forward and being pulled in by Jean’s hand on his nape. His gut swirls with molten heat, gasping lightly between them at this inexplicable surge of need to be even closer to Jean. He gripped the side of Jean’s face, the both of them panting hard with flushed faces and pink lips.

The desire in his gaze is so raw that Armin nearly whimpers. “Shit, Armin.” His eyes are wide, pupils dark.

He kisses him once again, gentler this time. “Want you.”

Jean’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and Armin leaned in to plant a feather-light kiss to the spot, feeling his pulse jump. In turn, Jean tucked loose strands of Armin’s hair behind his ear, voice gravelly as he says, “You have me.”

Armin licks his lips, reaching down to slowly grab the both of them into his small hand as Jean’s fingers trailed down his spine to the place he needed him the most. 

After that, there wasn’t much to say at all.

🐚

The dust in the attic specked white under the beam of sunlight shining from the overhead window. It was slightly humid in the room, making it hard to breathe around the cloth covering his face. Armin lowered it to his neck, mouth parted as he stared at the object in his hand, suddenly feeling sixteen all over again.

“Armin!” Jean laughs lyrically, “I knew it had to be here. I knew it!” He grabbed his shoulders, forcing Armin to peer up at his blinding grin. 

An excited laugh trickles out. “I didn’t think…”

Jean smirked, hands on his hip, “You thought I would let you lose the first seashell you ever found?”

“Jean…” His throat closed up as he stared at the rust collected on the surface from the years of it being shut inside a box. He wondered if there was a way to polish it again—resurrect it to what it was. There had to be.

“Do you think we can still hear the ocean in it?” Jean thought out loud.

He was curious as well, so he put it up next to their ears to hear. Unsure if it was just the echo of the room or the sound of the sea outside their house, but Armin could hear the rush of something . It was a hollow and fascinating sound—one he could never tire of. He beamed at Jean’s mirrored smile.

“Well, it hasn’t seen the ocean in so long.” Armin said, inspecting the faded colors. “Maybe we should return it to where it belongs. After I find a way to clean it.” He says, a hint of a question apparent.

Jean, warm as ever, kissed the side of his temple, clearing his head of any doubt. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, mon amour.” And Armin bloomed like a flower.

🐚

Keeping secrets had never been difficult for Jean, but keeping secrets from the love of his life proved to be a strenuous task. With Armin’s keen observation and intelligent brain, it wouldn’t be long before he pieced all the clues together. Which is why Jean chose not to waste any time dawdling around when he knew what he wanted.

“We just finished it this morning,” The man from behind the counter said as he brought out the box, “Very unique idea, sir.” He smiled at him, the anticipation pounding in his ears as the piece of jewelry inside it was revealed.

Jean sucks in a sharp breath and takes off his hat, placing it next to the box. The matching gold rings shine, the material melding seamlessly with the seashells he’d brought to the shop two days ago. His throat burns and so do his eyes, the heavy emotions overwhelming him. It’s perfect. He’s going to love it—holy shit, it’s happening, Jean. You’re going to propose, and he’s going to say yes—and then you’ll be married. 

Married. 

The man laughs at his expression, not to make fun of him, but out of amusement. He must’ve encountered many people like Jean who’ve gotten emotional at the sight of his rings.

Jean sniffed, trying to calm his heartbeat and swallow past the ball in his throat. “It’s perfect, thank you so much.” He said raspily. Perfect didn’t even begin to cover it. “I’ll take it—I’ll pay you for all your troubles.”

He laughed kindly and shook his head, “Seeing your expression was payment enough.”

And Jean agreed, already imagining the sight of Armin’s beautiful eyes welling with happy tears. I’ll make an honest man out of you, Armin Arlert. Just like how I’ve wanted to since we were sixteen.

Jean bit his lip as he exited the shop, finding Levi leaning against the wall with his arms folded. His body was trembling so much that he would be embarrassed if he weren’t so happy. 

Levi’s blank expression remained as he studied him, “Today, then?”

Jean nodded eagerly, inhaling deep to fill his lungs. “Today.” For a moment, he believes Levi’s face softens into a smile as he grips his arm to offer his support or acknowledge a paternal pride, he’s not sure. But Jean smiles up at the sun, feeling as if every part of the universe aligned. “At the beach.”

Where it all began.