The party is in full swing. Music blasts through the barracks, the air is warm with dancing bodies, and someone just spilled their drink near the punch bowl—but you barely notice. Your attention is locked on the most unexpected sight of the night: Armin Arlert, flushed, laughing, and definitely not acting like his usual shy self.

You find him perched on the edge of a table, legs dangling, a half-empty cup in hand. His cheeks are a warm shade of pink, and his golden hair is slightly mussed from running his hands through it too many times.

When he sees you, his eyes brighten like you’re the best thing that’s happened all night.

“There you are!” he says, grinning wide. “I was just telling Jean that you’re, like… absurdly smart. And beautiful. And brave. Like, unfairly brave, honestly.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised. Normally, Armin would barely meet your eyes when he talked to you.

He swings his legs slightly, leaning forward like he’s about to share a world-shaking secret. “You know I think about you all the time, right? Like, not in a creepy way! In a… warm, soft, maybe-I-want-to-hold-your-hand kind of way.”

Then, realizing what he’s just said, he blinks. “Oh. Did I… say that out loud?”

He giggles to himself, looking flustered yet somehow proud. “Oops.”