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It looks soft, Annie muses. Soft, like the fur that peeks out from behind a cat's ears when it lowers its head to eat.
She wonders if it is that soft, or if it’s deceiving instead; more coarse and thick than downy and smooth. It wouldn’t take much to find out. She could simply reach out her hand.
But the sudden bobbing of the soft (?) hair breaks her contemplation, and Annie tunes back in as her gaze finally drifts away from the top of her friend’s head.
Bertholdt is sitting backwards in his chair in front of hers, head pillowed in his arms crossed over the seatback. He’s turned towards the floor as he speaks, big shoulders slumped as worries pour out in a torrent.
“Reiner would never say it to anyone because he’s so kind, but sometimes he thinks all the gifts can be a little…too much.”
Annie resists the urge to roll her eyes. Only that guy could ever complain about getting too many Valentine’s chocolates. She guesses it’s a step up from when they were in elementary to middle school however, when Reiner was always whining about never getting a thing.
“But I’ve been thinking about maybe…giving him something this year too?” Bertholdt sounds almost unsure of the words escaping from his own mouth. Typical. “I know it’s basic and he might not even notice, or… he could find it annoying.”
Annie does roll her eyes this time, because the very thought of Reiner finding a gift from Bertholdt — a gift of Valentine’s chocolates no less — annoying is so ridiculous it’s laughworthy.
She already knows all about the situation, picked up from all the times Reiner complained loudly to Bertholdt while walking home and assumed she wasn’t listening too. The big idiot really was appreciative of all the gifts he got, but the shrinking space in his locker year after year made it hard to even fit his books in. Nor can he reply to every written confession he gets, especially not the anonymous ones that leave no clues beyond lipstick stains and a stench of perfume.
Even then, one earbud in and the strap of her guitar case hanging off her shoulder, Annie thought Reiner was a moron. What was he doing complaining about getting chocolates to the person he was trying to get them from? It must be a loose screw that made Reiner think Bertholdt would immediately know he was exempt from perceived damage.
“Annie, what do you think I should do?” Bertholdt asks, still all curled up over the back of his chair, looking so much like a sad wet puppy left out in the rain that even she’s having trouble bearing it. “Should I give him chocolates? Or something else? Do you think it would be too much, would it be an inconvenience—?”
Annie finally reaches out and pets the soft looking hair like she’s been wanting to, half to finally confirm that it really is that soft and half to stop Bertholdt from staring at the floor like Reiner had turned him out onto the street and told him to never come back.
“Give them to me, then.”
“Huh?” Her words are more than enough to snap Bertholdt’s gaze back up and put surprised hope in his eyes.
“Give me some,” Annie repeats. The way her childhood friend’s eyes widen even further, nearly sparkling, is too amusing to pass up. She flicks a wayward bang. “You’re worried Reiner won’t appreciate your chocolates, right? I will.”
A shock of emotions flashes across Bertholdt's face before finally, he breaks out into a flushed smile. No doubt the guy was already feeling lucky she’d indulged him listening to his Reiner-related troubles during their precious lunch break, but now she’s even allowing him to share open affection with her like when they were kids. These little nuggets of acquiesce come so rarely that he’s almost beside himself. He certainly looks it.
“I’ll definitely give you chocolates then, Annie!” he says happily, more loudly than he probably means to in his excitement.
It’s loud enough to make everyone in the classroom quiet and turn towards them in shock, but Bertholdt doesn't seem to notice at all. He just keeps smiling at her, like he’s already imagining the exact ingredients he’ll be picking up later. She kind of loves him for it, the silly fool.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, staring directly at them, comes the very cause for the whole thing in the first place.
Annie turns her head away and reaches out to ruffle Bertholdt’s hair again, ignoring the desperate gaze that keeps trying to catch her attention with the boredom of a girl who really doesn’t have it in her to indulge two idiotic teenage boys.
What. What was that, Annie? Look at me! What do you mean Bertholdt’s giving you chocolates!!
Reiner looks like he’s sucked on a lemon and been told the world is ending the entire walk home, staring daggers into the side of her head.
Calm down, Braun, Annie still thinks the next day, as she takes a bite from one of the milk chocolate truffles Berthodt had gifted her with pride earlier that morning. It melts smoothly on her tongue; a real treat.
“Bertholdt, what about me—!”
“Did you also want chocolates, Reiner?”
“Yes!”
“Wait, r-really?! Yours is in my bag, let me grab it!”
Annie pops the rest of the truffle into her mouth as she watches Reiner grovel and Bertholdt beam with equal measure of exasperation and reluctant pride. The taller boy pushes a homemade box tied with a ribbon into Reiner’s hands, who immediately cheers like he’s won the lottery.
Annie rolls her eyes.
Silly boys. No one's going to take him away from you.