The plane shook slightly as it lifted off the runway, the rumble of the engines blending with the rising wind outside. Inside, the cabin was dim — narrow rows, steel walls, metal seats that groaned with age and tension.

You sat near the window, arms folded, chin tucked toward your chest. The seat felt too upright, too stiff, like everything around you was trying to remind you that comfort was something you hadn’t earned yet.

Your eyes flicked sideways when someone approached — quiet, careful steps. No blade. No threat.

Just Armin.

He looked… different.

You hadn’t seen it clearly until now — the way his face had matured, jawline sharper than you remembered, cheekbones a little more defined. His golden hair was longer, messier, parted loosely to one side, strands brushing his forehead like waves bending in the wind.

There were soft shadows under his eyes — not from weakness, but from weight. Like he’d been carrying the world on his shoulders for too long. But his expression… it was still his. Gentle. Thoughtful. Never forcing its way in. Just offering.

“Can I sit here?” he asked, nodding to the empty seat beside you.

You only shrugged, not trusting your voice.

He sat.

Silence stretched between you — but not an empty one. It was full. Heavy. And your heartbeat thumped against your ribs just a little harder than it should’ve.

You glanced at him again — for only a second.

And that’s when it hit you.

The way the soft cabin light brushed across his skin. The way his lashes lowered slightly as he watched the clouds outside. How the slope of his nose looked different. His presence wasn’t loud, but it filled the space around him — like warmth seeping through a cold floor.

You turned away quickly.

Your cheeks were warm.

Too warm.

Damn it.

You shifted in your seat, forcing yourself to look out the window instead. The clouds blurred past. Still not enough to cool the heat rising in your face.

Armin must’ve noticed.

But if he did, he didn’t say anything.

Instead, his voice came softly — as if he knew how delicate the air between you two had become.

“I used to imagine what you were thinking when you stared at the sky like that… back in the Walls.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to.

He continued, smile barely tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I never imagined we’d see this together. Not like this.”

You blinked slowly. Your eyes traced the clouds below, but your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

You thought of how he’d reached for you earlier without hesitation. How he still spoke to you like you were worth understanding.

And you hated that it stirred something in your chest.

Something warm.

Something dangerous.

“You talk too much,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he wouldn’t catch the edge in your voice — the kind you used when you didn’t trust your own feelings.

He chuckled quietly.

And though you didn’t look at him again, you let the smallest hint of a smile pull at your lips — hidden, faint, and fleeting.

But real.