It’s a free day on campus—no classes, no uniforms, just students scattered across the classrooms and courtyards like it’s summer break. Eren’s already waiting by their usual table, backpack tossed aside, sleeves rolled up, one foot tapping the grass like he’s been there a while.

The second he spots Armin, his whole expression softens out of his usual scowl.

He doesn’t say anything at first—just reaches out, fingers brushing lightly until their hands are linked without thought. Like it’s muscle memory.

“You’re late,” he murmurs, but it’s not a complaint. His thumb traces slow circles over Armin’s hand, grounding.

He tugs Armin over to an empty table like this is the only place he wants to be today. Probably is.