( armin's one of the lucky ones. he gets a gun in his pack. not that he's ever held one in his entire life, but it sits there in his hands and he knows that it's lethal. the collar around his neck is too tight, it pinches at his skin as an ever-present reminder of the death hanging over their hands. the rules are clear. he's already memorized them. only one of them is allowed to walk out of this.
he keeps wanting to pinch himself to make sure that this isn't some fucked up dream. he's also thinking about some of their classmates -- reiner, taller and stronger than just about anyone he knows, annie who seemed to know about sixty forms of martial arts. armin has a gun, but he doesn't know how to use it. the thing is wasted on him.
this is a very rational decision. it's the best way to maximize eren's survival rate. his best friend is strong and determined, and armin doubts that they've handed out very many guns when the point is to watch them tear each other apart. it'll give him an advantage. he slides the thing over and tries not to shake, because he has to keep it together long enough to convince eren that he's alright.
but it was just supposed to be a field trip. and his parents are probably worrying and he never got to say goodbye to his grandfather and it's probably going to hurt a lot when he dies but he's not going to be a coward about it and he's definitely not going to cry. right? )
Here. Take this.
( don't fight him on this, eren. just take the gun, and win. and get out of here. )
He'd grabbed Armin and ran, back exposed all the while. What did it matter? He had complete faith in his friend, and... well. If he turned out to be wrong, it beat getting killed by anyone else. It's only by some cruel (and kind) twist of fate that Mikasa got sick for the first time in a decade and missed school that day, so it's up to him to keep them both alive.
But he opens his backpack and it's a fucking boxcutter and some rope. He stares in disbelief, mortified at the tiny blade in his hand before Armin speaks. ]
Huh?
[ Oh. Oh, it's—it's a gun. Even he knows all the implications there, every advantage it afforded them, breath catching with a quiet, strangled noise. His eyes immediately dart up to Armin's, wide and panicked and as soon as the shock passes, defiant as all hell. ]
( he's thinking about how he's going to do it. walk into one of the restricted areas, maybe. his collar will explode. it'll be quick, at least. shooting himself with the gun -- but then, that's one less bullet that eren can't use, so that's out of the question. besides, armin is thinking about mikasa, too. and how she'll feel if eren doesn't return to her. maybe he can do something other than be a burden, this one time.
armin is grabbing eren's hand, curling it around the gun, pushing it towards him. he hasn't even put the clip in yet, though it doesn't look too complicated to do. which is a relief, because he's pretty sure neither of them have ever seen a gun up close. )
Only one of us is allowed to live. And it has to be you.
( it has to be. armin's convictions are strong, but he's still beginning to cry and he hates himself for it because he's afraid to die. and because he and eren said they would travel the world someday after high school. hadn't they saved up all of their money? they were going to go to america, or maybe somewhere else, anywhere in the world. it didn't really matter. they were going to be the freest men on earth.
he's got to do it right now, before his courage fails. he can go find a restricted area. he's got a map that he clutches tightly in his hands. he'll leave the food and water rations behind so eren can use them and everything will be alright.
[ Eren stares a little blankly as his friend starts to cry. Ah, he thinks, more calmly than he should. We're in hell. He'd very nearly gotten himself killed already, shouting and rebelling back in the classroom, but they'd blown up some kid's collar and everyone shut up at that. He remembers seeing them claw at their own neck until there were thin dots of blood, their screaming over the steady beep beep beep of their collar.
He's not some slayer of giants, a soldier, a warrior—Eren Jaeger is sixteen and the most adventurous thing he's gotten to do is smoke on their high school rooftop. He's never killed a man, but he thinks he could.
Probably. ]
No.
[ For a second, he puts the gun down in his lap and uses both his hands to grip Armin's shoulders, fingers digging fiercely into his sleeves. Each word is practically spat out, and even if he's shaking a little, scared out of his goddamn wits... ] Armin—we'll both live. Fuck their game, and fuck their rules—!
[ It's all he takes to lower his own voice. He lets go to nudge his friend's chin up, making sure he's looking him in the eyes. America, Europe, all of it was faraway thoughts, but Armin was here and he'd sooner die than leave him alone with this. As resolutely as possible, ] I won't let you die.
( they're listening. they have to be listening in. that's what they were told, right? the collars come equipped with microphones and tracking devices. any attempt to escape would set them off. the rules were laid out at the beginning, and they're so very clear.
armin isn't a soldier in this world, either. he isn't a tactician. he hasn't grown up with the threat of death and violence over his head. he's the kid who spends a lot of free time in the library, soft and easily knocked around by school bullies. sixteen years old is surely too young to die, but the world is cruel, isn't it? armin hadn't learned that yet, but he's certainly learning it right now.
so if they're listening, what if eren's rebellious words get his collar detonated? he can't stand that thought. more than keeping eren alive, he has to stop his best friend from getting himself killed. )( this time, he looks up at him, looks him straight in the eye through his tears so that his friend knows exactly how determined he is. ) Stop. You can't talk like that, they're listening. Please.
( please don't die. please. he might be a smart kid in this world too, but armin's fear is getting better of him. he can't think of a plan to get them out of this, that was never an option, was it? he jerks himself out of eren's grip, rises unsteadily to his feet, gripping the map tightly in his hand.
the kid they killed in the classroom looked like he was in pain. he certainly screamed like it, cried for his mother. armin's heartbeat is a steady thump, thump that reminds him that he's still alive for now. )
Just live, okay? Live, and win. And tell my parents that I'm sorry.
[ Sometimes he's too late. He shows up after the bullies do their damage and pocket some lunch money, and he hates it. His interest in academia is... lacking, but he stays with Armin at the library until it's dark, because he won't let him walk home alone. Or maybe he's just taken a liking to the books. Maybe both. Armin's good at bringing the best out in people like that.
And he's stronger and smarter than he ever gives himself credit for, and right now that determination scares him senseless. Eren pauses, listens for the tell-tale beeps that never come. The truth is he's probably too rebellious to survive this, his temper somehow managing to undermine his fear (and good sense, of which he has very little to start).
But he doesn't trust Armin to kill anyone but himself. Hell, Eren's not sure he could take out his own friends, the people he's spent years eating lunch and dicking around with, but. They'd figure it out. They'd find a way, and until then he'd do whatever it took to keep them both safe.
He gets to his feet, grabbing Armin's hand, just below the wrist. It's not something he does much lately—a placating gesture from where they were kids. Despite his apprehensions, his skin is still warm. ]
Shut up. And just... listen, okay? They can tune in too, for all I care. [ He could be brave. He could do this. They could do this—he would honestly, earnestly put his faith in that. The emotion in his voice is thick, drips off each word, but he tries to be steady. ] Calm down, and trust me. We'll beat this. [ He manages a small, unsteady smile that makes him look less terrified than he actually is. ] If anyone can, it's you.
( eren is going to survive this if it's the last thing that armin does, and as far as he knows, it probably will be. because he doesn't know if his friend could kill people, he knows that he's strong, and that's more than armin has to offer. he's always been spindly, too lanky to be any sort of help in the fights that they used to get into. well, most of the time he used to refuse to fight, but he remembers one time he'd lost his temper and tried to punch back. he'd only ended up hurting his own hand, and the boys had laughed in his face. and if he can't even throw a decent punch, he's not sure he could ever fight someone and win.
but see, that's the thing about eren. he makes you want to believe in yourself, it's a talent. maybe it's just that dogged determination, pig-headed until the very end. and for a minute, armin actually believes that they might be able to survive this.
and then the what-ifs start creeping in: what if it's only the two of them, he won't make eren have to kill him. he won't leave that stain on his friend's conscience. )
Eren. Stop talking for a minute--
( okay, fine. fine. he just needs to think, he needs to stop crying. armin rubs at his eyes roughly, swiping the tears away as he takes harsh breaths. okay, think. how do people act? who is their biggest threat? it's only been about half an hour, hasn't it? everyone else is probably regrouping too. trying to decide what to do. finding hiding places. they should have another half hour before people actually start attacking them in earnest, at least.
and twenty-four hours until all their collars detonate, if someone doesn't die. but the question then becomes... )
Our classmates are going to start attacking us soon. Some of them won't be able to do it, but they're afraid. And they want to live. And some of them have been terrorizing people weaker than them for years...
( he's talking of course, about his bullies. but as much as armin loathes them, he doesn't want them dead. of course he doesn't! )
...I don't know if I could actually kill another human being, Eren.
[ Thinking about killing their classmates turns his stomach. More than that, really; he feels the sharp tang of bile in his throat and it's like someone's reached in and tied his gut into knots. It repulses him. Being played like this, murdering each other—he wants nothing to do with it, besides maybe finding some kind of retribution at the end.
Because god, he's never wanted to shoot someone as bad as he does now. Watching Armin rub at his eyes and swear his life away, he wants to go and find the bastards who did this to them and plant a bullet or two or ten between their eyes. The thought is murderous, and something about it scares him. He's not thinking numbers like Armin is, but he swallows and speaks anyway. It keeps his thoughts from turner any darker than they are. ]
I don't want you to. I don't expect that from you, Armin.
[ His hand tightens around Armin's, grip turning desperate. He's never been especially good at anything; average grades, average physique, average everything. All Eren had and ever will have is his resolve. He could do anything if he really willed it. ]
I'll protect you.
[ ...Whatever it took. He moves to grab both their packs, shrugging them over his shoulder. He pockets the tiny knife. ] Hold onto the gun. You don't have to kill anyone with it—I got rope, we can tie people up—but... it might scare them off. Aim for the legs. Not their knees, I don't think you'd be able to pull that off. Squeeze the trigger twice each time you shoot.
[ He'd read that in a comic, once. Hah. He's rambling at this point, poking briefly at the map in Armin's hands. They'd go find a safe spot. They're behind, and they need to make up for time. His voice shakes, but he sounds determined all the same. Because Armin was right. Someone'll come for them eventually; they need to find shelter. ] You... you don't have to pull the slide every shot, that's just movie shit. [ He thinks, anyway. Might've seen that on the internet. ] Only the first time. Okay?
( armin's hands shake as he tries to insert the clip into the gun -- they shake so badly that it's difficult even though it shouldn't be. it's a handgun, after all. and they must have picked something simpler and more user-friendly for this experiment, to make it easier for them to kill each other. the clip slides in with a sound that sickens him. how many shots do they have in a gun like this? eight, maybe? ten at most. they'll have to conserve their shots.
he might be afraid, but he's also not naive enough to buy eren's rambling about how they can get through this without killing anyone. he's trying to rationalize it in his head. maybe it's easier to be utilitarian about such things, if the ultimate goal is eren's survival.
such thoughts are philosophical and less relevant when their first classmate appears, his chief bully, the leader of the pack. tall and strong and unhesitant when it comes to killing the both of them, armin can see it in his eyes. there's intent there.
the boy has an axe. he advances. armin's thoughts are a buzz in his head, his reflexes are gone, his mind is screaming at him to move but the muscles won't obey, and the gun is caught in his shaking hands. )
[ The slide of metal against metal sends something crawling against his skin. Armin, with a gun? Laughable. But he doesn't crack any jokes as they start walking, nerves nearly sending them both jumping at every tiny crack and slither. ]
Armin... stay back. Run if you have to.
[ Which is good, because at least they see the bully as soon as he shows. And it's strange, seeing someone who is perfectly willing and capable of killing you: staring someone in the eye that you've seen a hundred times before and seeing nothing but deadly intent back. He finds the will to move before Armin does, standing in front of him. It's partly out of protective instinct, partly to hide their trump card (if a pistol could really be considered that much). His heart is beating so hard that it may as well be jumping into his throat, audible with every breath.
The first thought is quiet, forced and born entirely of desperation.
He's hurt Armin. He's going to hurt him again.
He deserves it. Eren reaches into his pocket, repeating it to himself again and again as his thumb draws out the blade with an innocuous click. He keeps it hidden, speaking a little breathlessly. ]
Hey—hey c'mon, what's with that look? [ Let him get close. ] We don't have to do this.
[ All things considered, Eren pulls off a pretty good act. Maybe it's that fear acting up, again. But he keeps scrambling for something to get them out of this, and what he finds isn't diplomacy. It's anger. More fury than he ever knew himself capable of; his arms tremble, but it isn't because he's scared anymore. ] I know we've fought before— [ Asshole. Monster. ] but w-we can talk...
[ No, fuck that. Then there's another person, another familiar churlish face stepping out from the trees. There's fresh blood on his sleeves. And that's it—he can't wait anymore. He stops thinking at all, wrist flicking out as he charges straight into the nearest boy, lifting his axe-arm up and plowing straight into him, knife sinking its full, measly two inches into his gut before wrenching it out with a yell. ]
( it all seems to happen so fast that he's not sure what's going on. all he knows is the screams and the stench of blood and in the blink of an eye, eren has become a murderer. he watches the knife sink into the other boy's gut almost in slow-motion, and the sickening squelching noise of it being pulled out of him, blood flying everywhere. there's so much blood, he's never seen so much blood in his life, he's going to puke --
but there's another boy, and armin recognizes him too. a boy with blood on his sleeves, and blood on the knife that's in his hands. it glints in the low afternoon sun. his voice gets caught in his throat. he wants to say, please don't do this but there are shards of glass in his throat and he can't speak, nausea riling him up.
eren is a murderer. eren's knife just slid into that boy. eren just murdered his childhood bully. eren just killed a man in front of him. his best friend. they used to pore over maps and travel books in his room, but the only thing armin can see right now is blood.
blood on that knife. the one that the second boy is raising to throw at his best friend and it's entirely on panicked instinct that armin raises the gun.
he meant to aim for the boy's leg, he swears. but his hands are shaking too badly, and instead of missing entirely like it should have, the bullet buries itself in the boy's chest in the very definition of a freak accident. beginner's luck. armin hears the sickening crunch of bones breaking, and the gun recoils in his hands with enough force that he actually drops it - though maybe that's more from shock than anything else.
and if he's started crying again, he doesn't even notice for the time being. )
Edited (I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW HOW GUNS WORK AT ALL i had to google things........) 2014-02-23 22:39 (UTC)
[ There's a bizarre distance in it all. He's wholly aware that he draws the blade back before he gets axed, cutting into the other teen's throat—it's a conscious decision. There's blood. There's a lot of blood. But at the same time he's just running off instinct, like his human side just flicked itself off for a second so he could deal with monsters as a monster.
It's surprisingly easy to see what's inside a man, then. He deserved this, Eren repeats for the Nth time as he pushes the dying body away.
—just in time to see the glint of a knife, and he knows he's probably going to die because there's an arm is poised to throw it, and his last thought wouldn't be that he just killed a guy, not a realization at how warm and cloying blood is... but regret that they're not going to see the world together.
Then there's the loudest bang he swears he's ever heard, and the cracking, crushing fall of a body to go with it. A fearful, strangled cry catches in his throat and he turns to Armin with wide eyes, the tiny vent of smoke lifting off the gun. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They weren't—
He drops the boxcutter, runs over and pries the knife from the boy's fingers (and there's bubbles of bright, bright red popping from his mouth and he's not dead and Eren knocks his reaching hand away because oh god oh fuck), nicking himself as he folds it. His hands weren't shaking when he'd stabbed someone, but they are now. There's suddenly so much to do and so little time; he doesn't even think to grab the food, just pocketing the knife and grabbing the axe as he runs to Armin's side, pulling him with his other hand and blind to the blood he's getting on his friend's sleeve. ]
They... they probably heard the shot. [ Armin's shocked, and he doesn't blame him, but in turn Eren sounds surprisingly steady; he grabs at the other boy's face, looking him straight in the eyes with the most deathly serious expression he thinks he's ever managed. ] We have to go.
[ Part of him thinks that there's still about three other bullies to kill. But he needs to get Armin somewhere safe, first. ]
( it's the first thing out of his mouth, and the words feel clumsy to him all of a sudden. armin's always been good with words, but right now his voice is all mixed up with phlegm and tears and the sudden rise of bile in his throat. he can hear the boy he shot gurgling on the blood welling up in his chest, maybe he's trying to say something, but armin can't understand what it is. what are the last thoughts of a dying sixteen year old? what is he wasting his last breaths to convey?
this is so surreal. it has to be a dream. he's entirely frozen in place, paralyzed in rising horror when he notices the blood that eren's almost covered with, that acrid metallic scent filling the air. but eren's right. they do have to move, and he's being a burden again, he's being dead weight --
don't be useless is the thought that snaps armin out of it, finally. his breaths are deep and shuddering, but he tastes blood on his tongue and wonders if he's bitten it somewhere down the line. he scoops up the gun, chest heaving, fighting down the urge to vomit. )
Okay, where...
( he hears rustling somewhere in the distance. armin grabs eren's hand and tries not to think about how it's slippery with blood. he just runs. he leaves the dying boy's noises in the distance. his legs feel like jelly, but he can run if it means keeping eren safe.
but then again, maybe eren isn't the one that needs protecting. )
[ It'd happened too quickly; it hadn't even been an hour when he'd said they could just run, maybe avoid all the bloodshed. All he'd wanted was for Armin to be safe, and now? They're murderers. The both of them.
But Armin has nothing to be sorry about. If Eren'd just been a little faster, aimed for the throat with his first stab and not his second, then they'd never have needed the gun. Seeing him terrified, stumbling over an apology—Eren feels tears swell belatedly at his eyes, lip trembling. I just killed someone.
Earlier this morning, they'd been talking about how to study for a math test. That maybe they should pick up Mikasa's favorite snack from the convenience store on their way home. His life, while boring, was a lifetime of peace he hadn't deserved. Happiness had softened him. And now—in an instant, with a tiny, two-inch blade—it was gone.
He quickly pulls ahead of Armin, their hands still clenched together like its their last lifeline, completely out of breath when they finally come across a stream. And there'll inevitably be others who'll be attracted by the babbling brook, but Eren falls by the riverside, scrambling one of the empty bottles out of his pack. ]
Where do we go?
[ His voice is hoarse from tears, distracted as he tries to wash the blood away. It's started to cake and brown against his skin, too deep into his clothes to try and wash out, and he wonders how long they've been running. ] What... what should we do?
( think. think, think think. he has to catch his breath. he has to compose himself. if keeping eren alive was the goal, then he's going to have to get over this paralysis of his. and armin is determined, his will making up for the strength he never had. eren tries to wipe the blood off himself, but armin stands there stock-still. thinking about things in terms of strategy helps him forget that he's a murderer, but the sound of blood gurgling from that boy's throat will haunt his nightmares for as long as he's alive.
which won't be for very long. perhaps that's a mercy. he won't have to live with the things he's done. eren will, though.
how much does he want to stain his hands in order to protect his friend? how much can he stand it? the question is ringing in armin's mind as he folds the map as if that might give them a clue. it doesn't. but he's read so much over the years, mostly of biology and chemistry. some of that has to come in handy now, right? there's got to be something. )
We're going to...we should find someplace to sleep that isn't easily accessible. Maybe a tree, but that should be a last resort.
( he's trying hard to keep his voice steady, but it's still trembling and oddly raw from so much crying and screaming. armin is very clearly trying to keep a strong face for the both of them. he's not very good at hiding it right now. )
And...we're going to set a trap. With the rope you got in your pack.
i can't believe i managed to write this while crying about jesus
[ Chemistry seemed like so long ago. Sitting in a room with thirty other kids he knew by name, passing notes and dirty glares, and the worst he could think was that some of them were real assholes. Trauma? Death—? Even he wouldn't have wished this shit on them.
He wants to go back to carbon and atomic bonds, but that's not happening.
He stops scrubbing at his skin (it's already red, angry blood vessels popping from abuse) to glance up at Armin. He's trying, but they've known each other long enough that he can read his friend. He's scared. He's affected. But at least his brain is running, which is more than he can say for himself—Eren's thoughts are disastrous, barely anything more than adrenaline and fight, survive, win.
Maybe that's why he draws the conclusion so quickly: ]
If we leave someone in a trap they'll die.
[ Maybe not quickly, maybe not easily. The most pragmatic thing to do would be to kill them and take their supplies after, and it might even be the merciful option given the alternative. But he's not sure he can call any of their actions gracious. ]
( armin's always spent a lot of time thinking about morality. they had a lot of intro to philosophy classes, and he was always pretty good at them. so there's some kind of cardinal rule, right: do not kill. but even in the law, there are factors that go into it. mitigating factors. constrained choices. he wants eren to get out of this alive. if he can get over the knee-jerk reaction of disgust...
but that's not something that most people can just turn off. it's something borne out of trauma, or something that people inherently have.
he swallows hard, his fists balling despite the dried blood caked on them. )
I'd rather not get caught by surprise again. We nearly died just now, because we weren't prepared.
( armin's words are strong, but his tone is uncertain. they're murderers. and he can think about moral relativism all he wants but the first instinct is to think of himself as a bad person. and that includes eren, too. neither of them are going to escape from this as innocents. it's only going to get much, much worse from here. )
A trap gives us some warning, at least. I just...I don't want to feel like prey. I don't want us to end up cornered like some wild animals.
( so they'll be the hunters, instead. it's just safer. more practical. thinking about practicalities is just easier at this point. )
you say as i write about gay teenagers killing people
[ Eren's moral compass is far less ambiguous. Black and white, because grays are complicated. Bad people should get what they deserve, and good ones should be rewarded. It made thinking about the people here, people just like them that just wanted to live and might've thrown up at the sight of all the blood on their clothes, scary as all hell.
The blood on his arms is gone, but the smell of iron doesn't leave. He nearly gags, managing to choke out some words instead. ]
All right. That makes sense.
[ It was just a precaution. They wouldn't really need to worry about anything unless the caught someone, and how likely was that? It was a big island, right? It's possible that everyone was on the completely other side.
He thinks it, but even he can't bring himself to believe. He'll never know life as an optimist, especially not after this. He splashes his face, rubs furiously at the streaks of blood before shaking the droplets away. ]
Get some water. We're heading out.
[ They do manage to find some shelter soon enough: an old shack that's a strong vantage point, two sides of it facing a cliff. The other two are hard to reach with the foliage and mud, and it takes them a good hour and a half just to climb up and set up 'camp.' And their traps.
He sits in the slipshod cabin, letting his head fall back onto the wall with an exhausted thunk. ] This place is too good for people not to start showing up. [ People who'd probably be willing to kill them over a one-room, weather-beaten shack. Hilarious. He opens one of his eyes almost lazily. They should at least make some use of it. ] If you wanna sleep a little, I'll keep watch.
( it's a good enough vantage point for them to consider setting up camp here. it had taken a while for them to get their traps all set up, armin kneeling against nearby trees to tie delicate knots that will go off with the addition of extra weight. knots meant to string people up by the ankle, hidden snares. he never really was one for the outdoors or anything before this, but armin's read a whole lot of books in his lifetime. and more importantly, he knows how to read people.
he's satisfied that these will at least give them some kind of warning. and if not, he's scattered brittle twigs and extra dry leaves in choice vulnerable areas. most people shouldn't be able to avoid them without making some sort of noise, right? they're dealing with high school children, not professional soldiers.
their classmates, a voice whispers at the back of his mind. when he's exhausted, it's easier for such thoughts to creep back from their banishment. )
No, I couldn't..
( but then, armin's sort of slumped over and he's already dozing off. his dreams are disturbing and filled with blood. he twitches and moans a lot in his sleep. but then, it's probably to be expected. )
Yeah, yeah. [ The teasing is light and Eren settles in close, adjusting Armin so he slumps heavily onto his shoulder and not the wall. It doesn't help with the restless groans, but nothing probably would.
Eren's thoughts drift. They'd do this on the bus sometimes: Armin would be tired from a sleepless night of studying, Eren'd pass out from staying out too late the night before. Sometimes they'd just stay up, talking to each other over the game of the month, blaming lag on missing a crucial punch in Street Fighter or the like. Laughing until two in the morning and falling asleep on each other five hours later.
And when they were younger, he would have Mikasa in one hand in Armin in the other, dragging them off the sidewalks into whatever trouble he could find. He almost thinks to comfort him, maybe take his hand now—but he doesn't want to get blood on his palms.
(Eren's hands are clean, but they don't feel that way.)
He's tired, but his eyes stubbornly stay open as he speaks, staring steadily outside. ]
It'll be okay.
[ Armin's not even awake to hear it, but Eren presses his cheek on the other boy's hair for a second before getting to his feet. He checks over their weapons, makes sure the blade edges are all sharp enough to kill fast. ] I'll deal with anyone who shows up.
[ It's not for another two hours that the twigs outside snap. Eren turns in an instant, hand immediately grabbing for the knife and heading towards the window. ]
( their lives were so mundane before this, so entirely regular, that armin has never had to be anything but soft and kind. there were bullies to contend with, academic pressures and the regular slate of teenaged problems, but he'd give almost anything to be able to go back to something like that. now he knows that even if they manage to get out of this, nothing will ever be the same.
but then, armin isn't putting too much hope in the both of them getting out of here. he's still got his own objective in mind, no matter how much eren might hate it. which is why he's almost angry at himself for falling asleep. he's not the one that's supposed to need it.
ultimately, it's a yell that jolts him awake. not the twigs snapping, but the noise of someone getting caught in the rudimentary trap that armin had set out, the rope tightening around the person's ankle given just the right amount of pressure. he wasn't sure if it would work. his knowledge of such things came from a deep understanding of physics and a few rudimentary glances at other books that he's not quite forgotten the contents of. but it does work, and when armin jolts awake, he rubs and his eyes and immediately feels a little sick.
his trap had worked. he hadn't wanted it to, hadn't wanted things to come down to this. but here they are, with one of their classmates struggling to try and free his leg from the knots. armin feels a little sick. )
Eren.
( he's trying to fight back the panic in his voice, but it's not working very well. )
[ They were a mismatched pair, people said. Eren was a delinquent with a sharp tongue and a sharper glare, no real future besides worrying his parents and getting put away after starting enough fights. Armin was brilliant and faded away into the background, like maybe being quiet and obscure would save him from being stuffed in lockers. But they didn't know that Eren had dreams and Armin would talk back to the other boys that picked on him, that maybe they were more alike than people gave them credit for.
It would've been nice to just live out their lives like that, together. They were practically joined at the hip, and he doesn't want to think that one of them won't make it out alive. They'd escape, things would go back to normal, and then maybe he'd stop being a pansy and ask if they could go to prom together, and things would just... go on from there.
(He doesn't believe that for a second. If anything, he thinks with a newfound appreciation for morbidity, Armin wouldn't have to worry about those bullies anymore.)
His heart thrums at a million miles a minute, looking out and seeing no one. Must've been one of the further traps, beyond a bit of brush and undergrowth. ]
I... [ For a second he flounders, mouth still hanging open with his best, bewildered impression of a deer in headlights. But... he said he would deal with them, and Eren isn't one to break his promises. It feels like the tiny hilt of the knife in his hand is going to splinter with how tight he's gripping it, but his voice steels over. ] I'll go check it out. [ It doesn't matter whether or not Armin follows him: he could use the backup, but he certainly doesn't want his friend playing spectator for what might happen next. Either way, he cracks open the door and starts to head over in the direction of the struggling gasps and thrashing. ] Stay here, or behind me. Don't do anything stupid for my sake—got it?
[ He levels Armin a hardened look before rounding the corner of their little shack. And with the new field of vision, his breath catches in his throat, bravado evaporating as quickly as it came.
The girl caught in the trap is small, struggling, and all too familiar. The blonde head of hair scares him, because Armin's been on his mind all day, but it's— ] Krista...?
are you sick of me yet though
he keeps wanting to pinch himself to make sure that this isn't some fucked up dream. he's also thinking about some of their classmates -- reiner, taller and stronger than just about anyone he knows, annie who seemed to know about sixty forms of martial arts. armin has a gun, but he doesn't know how to use it. the thing is wasted on him.
this is a very rational decision. it's the best way to maximize eren's survival rate. his best friend is strong and determined, and armin doubts that they've handed out very many guns when the point is to watch them tear each other apart. it'll give him an advantage. he slides the thing over and tries not to shake, because he has to keep it together long enough to convince eren that he's alright.
but it was just supposed to be a field trip. and his parents are probably worrying and he never got to say goodbye to his grandfather and it's probably going to hurt a lot when he dies but he's not going to be a coward about it and he's definitely not going to cry. right? )
Here. Take this.
( don't fight him on this, eren. just take the gun, and win. and get out of here. )
shhhhHHHHh never
He'd grabbed Armin and ran, back exposed all the while. What did it matter? He had complete faith in his friend, and... well. If he turned out to be wrong, it beat getting killed by anyone else. It's only by some cruel (and kind) twist of fate that Mikasa got sick for the first time in a decade and missed school that day, so it's up to him to keep them both alive.
But he opens his backpack and it's a fucking boxcutter and some rope. He stares in disbelief, mortified at the tiny blade in his hand before Armin speaks. ]
Huh?
[ Oh. Oh, it's—it's a gun. Even he knows all the implications there, every advantage it afforded them, breath catching with a quiet, strangled noise. His eyes immediately dart up to Armin's, wide and panicked and as soon as the shock passes, defiant as all hell. ]
What are you saying—? You need it more than I do.
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armin is grabbing eren's hand, curling it around the gun, pushing it towards him. he hasn't even put the clip in yet, though it doesn't look too complicated to do. which is a relief, because he's pretty sure neither of them have ever seen a gun up close. )
Only one of us is allowed to live. And it has to be you.
( it has to be. armin's convictions are strong, but he's still beginning to cry and he hates himself for it because he's afraid to die. and because he and eren said they would travel the world someday after high school. hadn't they saved up all of their money? they were going to go to america, or maybe somewhere else, anywhere in the world. it didn't really matter. they were going to be the freest men on earth.
he's got to do it right now, before his courage fails. he can go find a restricted area. he's got a map that he clutches tightly in his hands. he'll leave the food and water rations behind so eren can use them and everything will be alright.
he wonders how much an exploding collar hurts. )
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He's not some slayer of giants, a soldier, a warrior—Eren Jaeger is sixteen and the most adventurous thing he's gotten to do is smoke on their high school rooftop. He's never killed a man, but he thinks he could.
Probably. ]
No.
[ For a second, he puts the gun down in his lap and uses both his hands to grip Armin's shoulders, fingers digging fiercely into his sleeves. Each word is practically spat out, and even if he's shaking a little, scared out of his goddamn wits... ] Armin—we'll both live. Fuck their game, and fuck their rules—!
[ It's all he takes to lower his own voice. He lets go to nudge his friend's chin up, making sure he's looking him in the eyes. America, Europe, all of it was faraway thoughts, but Armin was here and he'd sooner die than leave him alone with this. As resolutely as possible, ] I won't let you die.
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( they're listening. they have to be listening in. that's what they were told, right? the collars come equipped with microphones and tracking devices. any attempt to escape would set them off. the rules were laid out at the beginning, and they're so very clear.
armin isn't a soldier in this world, either. he isn't a tactician. he hasn't grown up with the threat of death and violence over his head. he's the kid who spends a lot of free time in the library, soft and easily knocked around by school bullies. sixteen years old is surely too young to die, but the world is cruel, isn't it? armin hadn't learned that yet, but he's certainly learning it right now.
so if they're listening, what if eren's rebellious words get his collar detonated? he can't stand that thought. more than keeping eren alive, he has to stop his best friend from getting himself killed. )( this time, he looks up at him, looks him straight in the eye through his tears so that his friend knows exactly how determined he is. ) Stop. You can't talk like that, they're listening. Please.
( please don't die. please. he might be a smart kid in this world too, but armin's fear is getting better of him. he can't think of a plan to get them out of this, that was never an option, was it? he jerks himself out of eren's grip, rises unsteadily to his feet, gripping the map tightly in his hand.
the kid they killed in the classroom looked like he was in pain. he certainly screamed like it, cried for his mother. armin's heartbeat is a steady thump, thump that reminds him that he's still alive for now. )
Just live, okay? Live, and win. And tell my parents that I'm sorry.
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And he's stronger and smarter than he ever gives himself credit for, and right now that determination scares him senseless. Eren pauses, listens for the tell-tale beeps that never come. The truth is he's probably too rebellious to survive this, his temper somehow managing to undermine his fear (and good sense, of which he has very little to start).
But he doesn't trust Armin to kill anyone but himself. Hell, Eren's not sure he could take out his own friends, the people he's spent years eating lunch and dicking around with, but. They'd figure it out. They'd find a way, and until then he'd do whatever it took to keep them both safe.
He gets to his feet, grabbing Armin's hand, just below the wrist. It's not something he does much lately—a placating gesture from where they were kids. Despite his apprehensions, his skin is still warm. ]
Shut up. And just... listen, okay? They can tune in too, for all I care. [ He could be brave. He could do this. They could do this—he would honestly, earnestly put his faith in that. The emotion in his voice is thick, drips off each word, but he tries to be steady. ] Calm down, and trust me. We'll beat this. [ He manages a small, unsteady smile that makes him look less terrified than he actually is. ] If anyone can, it's you.
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but see, that's the thing about eren. he makes you want to believe in yourself, it's a talent. maybe it's just that dogged determination, pig-headed until the very end. and for a minute, armin actually believes that they might be able to survive this.
and then the what-ifs start creeping in: what if it's only the two of them, he won't make eren have to kill him. he won't leave that stain on his friend's conscience. )
Eren. Stop talking for a minute--
( okay, fine. fine. he just needs to think, he needs to stop crying. armin rubs at his eyes roughly, swiping the tears away as he takes harsh breaths. okay, think. how do people act? who is their biggest threat? it's only been about half an hour, hasn't it? everyone else is probably regrouping too. trying to decide what to do. finding hiding places. they should have another half hour before people actually start attacking them in earnest, at least.
and twenty-four hours until all their collars detonate, if someone doesn't die. but the question then becomes... )
Our classmates are going to start attacking us soon. Some of them won't be able to do it, but they're afraid. And they want to live. And some of them have been terrorizing people weaker than them for years...
( he's talking of course, about his bullies. but as much as armin loathes them, he doesn't want them dead. of course he doesn't! )
...I don't know if I could actually kill another human being, Eren.
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Because god, he's never wanted to shoot someone as bad as he does now. Watching Armin rub at his eyes and swear his life away, he wants to go and find the bastards who did this to them and plant a bullet or two or ten between their eyes. The thought is murderous, and something about it scares him. He's not thinking numbers like Armin is, but he swallows and speaks anyway. It keeps his thoughts from turner any darker than they are. ]
I don't want you to. I don't expect that from you, Armin.
[ His hand tightens around Armin's, grip turning desperate. He's never been especially good at anything; average grades, average physique, average everything. All Eren had and ever will have is his resolve. He could do anything if he really willed it. ]
I'll protect you.
[ ...Whatever it took. He moves to grab both their packs, shrugging them over his shoulder. He pockets the tiny knife. ] Hold onto the gun. You don't have to kill anyone with it—I got rope, we can tie people up—but... it might scare them off. Aim for the legs. Not their knees, I don't think you'd be able to pull that off. Squeeze the trigger twice each time you shoot.
[ He'd read that in a comic, once. Hah. He's rambling at this point, poking briefly at the map in Armin's hands. They'd go find a safe spot. They're behind, and they need to make up for time. His voice shakes, but he sounds determined all the same. Because Armin was right. Someone'll come for them eventually; they need to find shelter. ] You... you don't have to pull the slide every shot, that's just movie shit. [ He thinks, anyway. Might've seen that on the internet. ] Only the first time. Okay?
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he might be afraid, but he's also not naive enough to buy eren's rambling about how they can get through this without killing anyone. he's trying to rationalize it in his head. maybe it's easier to be utilitarian about such things, if the ultimate goal is eren's survival.
such thoughts are philosophical and less relevant when their first classmate appears, his chief bully, the leader of the pack. tall and strong and unhesitant when it comes to killing the both of them, armin can see it in his eyes. there's intent there.
the boy has an axe. he advances. armin's thoughts are a buzz in his head, his reflexes are gone, his mind is screaming at him to move but the muscles won't obey, and the gun is caught in his shaking hands. )
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Armin... stay back. Run if you have to.
[ Which is good, because at least they see the bully as soon as he shows. And it's strange, seeing someone who is perfectly willing and capable of killing you: staring someone in the eye that you've seen a hundred times before and seeing nothing but deadly intent back. He finds the will to move before Armin does, standing in front of him. It's partly out of protective instinct, partly to hide their trump card (if a pistol could really be considered that much). His heart is beating so hard that it may as well be jumping into his throat, audible with every breath.
The first thought is quiet, forced and born entirely of desperation.
He's hurt Armin. He's going to hurt him again.
He deserves it. Eren reaches into his pocket, repeating it to himself again and again as his thumb draws out the blade with an innocuous click. He keeps it hidden, speaking a little breathlessly. ]
Hey—hey c'mon, what's with that look? [ Let him get close. ] We don't have to do this.
[ All things considered, Eren pulls off a pretty good act. Maybe it's that fear acting up, again. But he keeps scrambling for something to get them out of this, and what he finds isn't diplomacy. It's anger. More fury than he ever knew himself capable of; his arms tremble, but it isn't because he's scared anymore. ] I know we've fought before— [ Asshole. Monster. ] but w-we can talk...
[ No, fuck that. Then there's another person, another familiar churlish face stepping out from the trees. There's fresh blood on his sleeves. And that's it—he can't wait anymore. He stops thinking at all, wrist flicking out as he charges straight into the nearest boy, lifting his axe-arm up and plowing straight into him, knife sinking its full, measly two inches into his gut before wrenching it out with a yell. ]
NU WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME OH MY GOD.
but there's another boy, and armin recognizes him too. a boy with blood on his sleeves, and blood on the knife that's in his hands. it glints in the low afternoon sun. his voice gets caught in his throat. he wants to say, please don't do this but there are shards of glass in his throat and he can't speak, nausea riling him up.
eren is a murderer. eren's knife just slid into that boy. eren just murdered his childhood bully. eren just killed a man in front of him. his best friend. they used to pore over maps and travel books in his room, but the only thing armin can see right now is blood.
blood on that knife. the one that the second boy is raising to throw at his best friend and it's entirely on panicked instinct that armin raises the gun.
he meant to aim for the boy's leg, he swears. but his hands are shaking too badly, and instead of missing entirely like it should have, the bullet buries itself in the boy's chest in the very definition of a freak accident. beginner's luck. armin hears the sickening crunch of bones breaking, and the gun recoils in his hands with enough force that he actually drops it - though maybe that's more from shock than anything else.
and if he's started crying again, he doesn't even notice for the time being. )
YOU LITERALLY ASKED ME FOR THIS
It's surprisingly easy to see what's inside a man, then. He deserved this, Eren repeats for the Nth time as he pushes the dying body away.
—just in time to see the glint of a knife, and he knows he's probably going to die because there's an arm is poised to throw it, and his last thought wouldn't be that he just killed a guy, not a realization at how warm and cloying blood is... but regret that they're not going to see the world together.
Then there's the loudest bang he swears he's ever heard, and the cracking, crushing fall of a body to go with it. A fearful, strangled cry catches in his throat and he turns to Armin with wide eyes, the tiny vent of smoke lifting off the gun. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They weren't—
He drops the boxcutter, runs over and pries the knife from the boy's fingers (and there's bubbles of bright, bright red popping from his mouth and he's not dead and Eren knocks his reaching hand away because oh god oh fuck), nicking himself as he folds it. His hands weren't shaking when he'd stabbed someone, but they are now. There's suddenly so much to do and so little time; he doesn't even think to grab the food, just pocketing the knife and grabbing the axe as he runs to Armin's side, pulling him with his other hand and blind to the blood he's getting on his friend's sleeve. ]
They... they probably heard the shot. [ Armin's shocked, and he doesn't blame him, but in turn Eren sounds surprisingly steady; he grabs at the other boy's face, looking him straight in the eyes with the most deathly serious expression he thinks he's ever managed. ] We have to go.
[ Part of him thinks that there's still about three other bullies to kill. But he needs to get Armin somewhere safe, first. ]
YOU HAVE NO PROOF OF THAT
( it's the first thing out of his mouth, and the words feel clumsy to him all of a sudden. armin's always been good with words, but right now his voice is all mixed up with phlegm and tears and the sudden rise of bile in his throat. he can hear the boy he shot gurgling on the blood welling up in his chest, maybe he's trying to say something, but armin can't understand what it is. what are the last thoughts of a dying sixteen year old? what is he wasting his last breaths to convey?
this is so surreal. it has to be a dream. he's entirely frozen in place, paralyzed in rising horror when he notices the blood that eren's almost covered with, that acrid metallic scent filling the air. but eren's right. they do have to move, and he's being a burden again, he's being dead weight --
don't be useless is the thought that snaps armin out of it, finally. his breaths are deep and shuddering, but he tastes blood on his tongue and wonders if he's bitten it somewhere down the line. he scoops up the gun, chest heaving, fighting down the urge to vomit. )
Okay, where...
( he hears rustling somewhere in the distance. armin grabs eren's hand and tries not to think about how it's slippery with blood. he just runs. he leaves the dying boy's noises in the distance. his legs feel like jelly, but he can run if it means keeping eren safe.
but then again, maybe eren isn't the one that needs protecting. )
yeah besides plurk and stuff, no proof at all
But Armin has nothing to be sorry about. If Eren'd just been a little faster, aimed for the throat with his first stab and not his second, then they'd never have needed the gun. Seeing him terrified, stumbling over an apology—Eren feels tears swell belatedly at his eyes, lip trembling. I just killed someone.
Earlier this morning, they'd been talking about how to study for a math test. That maybe they should pick up Mikasa's favorite snack from the convenience store on their way home. His life, while boring, was a lifetime of peace he hadn't deserved. Happiness had softened him. And now—in an instant, with a tiny, two-inch blade—it was gone.
He quickly pulls ahead of Armin, their hands still clenched together like its their last lifeline, completely out of breath when they finally come across a stream. And there'll inevitably be others who'll be attracted by the babbling brook, but Eren falls by the riverside, scrambling one of the empty bottles out of his pack. ]
Where do we go?
[ His voice is hoarse from tears, distracted as he tries to wash the blood away. It's started to cake and brown against his skin, too deep into his clothes to try and wash out, and he wonders how long they've been running. ] What... what should we do?
i'm 100% innocent here
which won't be for very long. perhaps that's a mercy. he won't have to live with the things he's done. eren will, though.
how much does he want to stain his hands in order to protect his friend? how much can he stand it? the question is ringing in armin's mind as he folds the map as if that might give them a clue. it doesn't. but he's read so much over the years, mostly of biology and chemistry. some of that has to come in handy now, right? there's got to be something. )
We're going to...we should find someplace to sleep that isn't easily accessible. Maybe a tree, but that should be a last resort.
( he's trying hard to keep his voice steady, but it's still trembling and oddly raw from so much crying and screaming. armin is very clearly trying to keep a strong face for the both of them. he's not very good at hiding it right now. )
And...we're going to set a trap. With the rope you got in your pack.
i can't believe i managed to write this while crying about jesus
He wants to go back to carbon and atomic bonds, but that's not happening.
He stops scrubbing at his skin (it's already red, angry blood vessels popping from abuse) to glance up at Armin. He's trying, but they've known each other long enough that he can read his friend. He's scared. He's affected. But at least his brain is running, which is more than he can say for himself—Eren's thoughts are disastrous, barely anything more than adrenaline and fight, survive, win.
Maybe that's why he draws the conclusion so quickly: ]
If we leave someone in a trap they'll die.
[ Maybe not quickly, maybe not easily. The most pragmatic thing to do would be to kill them and take their supplies after, and it might even be the merciful option given the alternative. But he's not sure he can call any of their actions gracious. ]
jesus loves u
but that's not something that most people can just turn off. it's something borne out of trauma, or something that people inherently have.
he swallows hard, his fists balling despite the dried blood caked on them. )
I'd rather not get caught by surprise again. We nearly died just now, because we weren't prepared.
( armin's words are strong, but his tone is uncertain. they're murderers. and he can think about moral relativism all he wants but the first instinct is to think of himself as a bad person. and that includes eren, too. neither of them are going to escape from this as innocents. it's only going to get much, much worse from here. )
A trap gives us some warning, at least. I just...I don't want to feel like prey. I don't want us to end up cornered like some wild animals.
( so they'll be the hunters, instead. it's just safer. more practical. thinking about practicalities is just easier at this point. )
you say as i write about gay teenagers killing people
The blood on his arms is gone, but the smell of iron doesn't leave. He nearly gags, managing to choke out some words instead. ]
All right. That makes sense.
[ It was just a precaution. They wouldn't really need to worry about anything unless the caught someone, and how likely was that? It was a big island, right? It's possible that everyone was on the completely other side.
He thinks it, but even he can't bring himself to believe. He'll never know life as an optimist, especially not after this. He splashes his face, rubs furiously at the streaks of blood before shaking the droplets away. ]
Get some water. We're heading out.
[ They do manage to find some shelter soon enough: an old shack that's a strong vantage point, two sides of it facing a cliff. The other two are hard to reach with the foliage and mud, and it takes them a good hour and a half just to climb up and set up 'camp.' And their traps.
He sits in the slipshod cabin, letting his head fall back onto the wall with an exhausted thunk. ] This place is too good for people not to start showing up. [ People who'd probably be willing to kill them over a one-room, weather-beaten shack. Hilarious. He opens one of his eyes almost lazily. They should at least make some use of it. ] If you wanna sleep a little, I'll keep watch.
gay teenaged murderers what a time to be alive
he's satisfied that these will at least give them some kind of warning. and if not, he's scattered brittle twigs and extra dry leaves in choice vulnerable areas. most people shouldn't be able to avoid them without making some sort of noise, right? they're dealing with high school children, not professional soldiers.
their classmates, a voice whispers at the back of his mind. when he's exhausted, it's easier for such thoughts to creep back from their banishment. )
No, I couldn't..
( but then, armin's sort of slumped over and he's already dozing off. his dreams are disturbing and filled with blood. he twitches and moans a lot in his sleep. but then, it's probably to be expected. )
god bless
Eren's thoughts drift. They'd do this on the bus sometimes: Armin would be tired from a sleepless night of studying, Eren'd pass out from staying out too late the night before. Sometimes they'd just stay up, talking to each other over the game of the month, blaming lag on missing a crucial punch in Street Fighter or the like. Laughing until two in the morning and falling asleep on each other five hours later.
And when they were younger, he would have Mikasa in one hand in Armin in the other, dragging them off the sidewalks into whatever trouble he could find. He almost thinks to comfort him, maybe take his hand now—but he doesn't want to get blood on his palms.
(Eren's hands are clean, but they don't feel that way.)
He's tired, but his eyes stubbornly stay open as he speaks, staring steadily outside. ]
It'll be okay.
[ Armin's not even awake to hear it, but Eren presses his cheek on the other boy's hair for a second before getting to his feet. He checks over their weapons, makes sure the blade edges are all sharp enough to kill fast. ] I'll deal with anyone who shows up.
[ It's not for another two hours that the twigs outside snap. Eren turns in an instant, hand immediately grabbing for the knife and heading towards the window. ]
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but then, armin isn't putting too much hope in the both of them getting out of here. he's still got his own objective in mind, no matter how much eren might hate it. which is why he's almost angry at himself for falling asleep. he's not the one that's supposed to need it.
ultimately, it's a yell that jolts him awake. not the twigs snapping, but the noise of someone getting caught in the rudimentary trap that armin had set out, the rope tightening around the person's ankle given just the right amount of pressure. he wasn't sure if it would work. his knowledge of such things came from a deep understanding of physics and a few rudimentary glances at other books that he's not quite forgotten the contents of. but it does work, and when armin jolts awake, he rubs and his eyes and immediately feels a little sick.
his trap had worked. he hadn't wanted it to, hadn't wanted things to come down to this. but here they are, with one of their classmates struggling to try and free his leg from the knots. armin feels a little sick. )
Eren.
( he's trying to fight back the panic in his voice, but it's not working very well. )
What are we going to do?
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It would've been nice to just live out their lives like that, together. They were practically joined at the hip, and he doesn't want to think that one of them won't make it out alive. They'd escape, things would go back to normal, and then maybe he'd stop being a pansy and ask if they could go to prom together, and things would just... go on from there.
(He doesn't believe that for a second. If anything, he thinks with a newfound appreciation for morbidity, Armin wouldn't have to worry about those bullies anymore.)
His heart thrums at a million miles a minute, looking out and seeing no one. Must've been one of the further traps, beyond a bit of brush and undergrowth. ]
I... [ For a second he flounders, mouth still hanging open with his best, bewildered impression of a deer in headlights. But... he said he would deal with them, and Eren isn't one to break his promises. It feels like the tiny hilt of the knife in his hand is going to splinter with how tight he's gripping it, but his voice steels over. ] I'll go check it out. [ It doesn't matter whether or not Armin follows him: he could use the backup, but he certainly doesn't want his friend playing spectator for what might happen next. Either way, he cracks open the door and starts to head over in the direction of the struggling gasps and thrashing. ] Stay here, or behind me. Don't do anything stupid for my sake—got it?
[ He levels Armin a hardened look before rounding the corner of their little shack. And with the new field of vision, his breath catches in his throat, bravado evaporating as quickly as it came.
The girl caught in the trap is small, struggling, and all too familiar. The blonde head of hair scares him, because Armin's been on his mind all day, but it's— ] Krista...?