The restaurant air was thick, silent—but not calm. It was the silence that comes before blood spills.

From your hidden corner in the shadows, just behind the kitchen’s frame, you watched it unfold: Eren across the table, cold-eyed and cruel. Mikasa trembling beside him. Armin… trying, pleading, breaking.

Then it happened.

A punch.

Fast. Brutal. Final.

Armin’s body crashed against the table leg, crumpling like paper. You heard the air knocked from his lungs. His head bounced off the tile.

Time stopped.

Your vision blurred in red.

You stepped forward—silent but lethal, the way Levi trained you to be. No one noticed until you were in the room.

Eren turned slightly, that infuriating calm still painted across his face. But he didn’t matter now. Armin was on the floor. Bleeding. Still.

You dropped to one knee, fingers brushing his hair back. His face was a mess—blood dripping down his chin, his nose crooked. And yet—

He still looked at Eren with heartbreak.

Your jaw clenched. You rose like a blade unsheathed.

Your boot twisted, body coiled—and then you moved.

You launched forward, boot aimed for Eren’s skull with enough force to shatter bone.

But something stopped you.

Arms. Around your waist.

You hit the floor hard—but it wasn’t Eren who brought you down.

It was Armin.

He was underneath you, breathing hard, one arm looped around your lower back, the other gripping your shoulder as if his body would fall apart without you.

You stared down at him, wide-eyed.

His blood was on your hands. His breath was warm on your throat. His lips—cut and quivering—were so close.

You weren’t used to being stopped. No one ever dared.

“Don’t,” he whispered, barely audible over his ragged breathing. “Don’t… do this for me.”

Your body trembled—not from weakness, but from restraint.

“He wants us to hate him,” Armin continued, his voice soft like snowfall. “Don’t give him what he wants.”

You stared into his bruised face—into those blue eyes that still held softness, even after everything.

Why did he always have to be the one who made you feel?

You looked past him, where Eren stood watching—still, empty. You could destroy him now. You knew every weak point. Every blind spot.

But Armin’s hand was now against your cheek. Shaking. Warm. Human.

“Please,” he said again, eyes only on you. “Just stay. That’s enough.”

You exhaled slowly, the rage still burning like fire through your veins—but your arms, your legs… they didn’t move.

For the first time in years, you let someone pull you back.

And it was him.

You rested your forehead against his, eyes closed. The fury stayed coiled inside—but for now, you gave it no release.

You stayed.

Not because you couldn’t fight.

But because he asked you not to.