Even in peace, Armin still looked at you like you were something out of a dream.

You stood by the wide windows of the Tokyo apartment, arms folded, the city lights painting your silhouette in soft gold. Your long coat brushed the floor, one sleeve neatly pinned where two fingers used to be. A sleek black eyepatch covered the damage time never returned. Still, you looked as poised and sharp as ever—silent, unreadable, untouchable.

The others laughed behind you—Hange with her wine, Connie yelling about some bet, Jean losing in karaoke. You heard them, but you didn’t join. You never really had.

But he noticed.

He always did.

Armin stepped quietly to your side, carrying a warm bowl of rice and grilled tofu—your favorite. He didn’t ask if you were hungry. He already knew.

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “I didn’t ask.”

Armin smiled. “You never do.”

You sighed softly and reached out, but the chopsticks slipped in your grip. The missing fingers made it clumsy now, and your shoulders tensed automatically.

But Armin’s hand came up, gentle and calm.

“Let me?”

He said it like it wasn’t a big deal. Like this wasn’t the sixth time he’d stepped in today without ever making you feel less.

You hesitated. Then nodded.

He sat beside you on the low couch, offering small bites at your pace, the warmth between you two so quiet it almost hummed.

“You always do this,” you muttered.

“What?”

“Serve. Anticipate. Treat me like I’m…”

He looked up at you, eyes soft but steady. “Like you’re worth it?”

You blinked. That shut you up.

Across the room, Hange caught the scene first.

“Ooooh, there it is,” she gasped. “The slow-burn finally burning.”

Connie snorted. “Armin’s like… the walking definition of a green flag. Look at him—he’s feeding her like a little prince with manners.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “He’s been in love since the day she knocked out that Marleyan commander in two moves.”

You said nothing. But Armin’s smile twitched upward just slightly as he offered you the last bite.

Later, when the others drifted into laughter and sleep, you found yourself alone with him in the hallway. The apartment was quiet now, the skyline stretching endless outside the window.

You leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

“I used to terrify you,” you said plainly, tilting your head at him.

Armin chuckled. “You didn’t terrify me. You… stunned me.”

“Mm. Same thing.”

“You were the Second Captain,” he said, stepping closer. “Short, silent, deadly. Beautiful. You’d walk into a strategy meeting and say five words—and somehow everyone listened.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for your eye to catch his. “And now?”

He stepped into your space slowly, carefully—like someone approaching a storm with reverence.

“Now I know you. And somehow, I’m even more in awe.”

His hand rose to your face, brushing a loose strand behind your ear. His fingers didn’t flinch when they brushed the edge of your eyepatch.

“You’ve never needed to say much,” he said. “I’ve always been listening.”

You didn’t stop him. You didn’t move away. You just breathed. Let him touch what was once unreachable.

When he took your hand—scarred and missing pieces—and held it like it was whole, something in your chest shifted.

Not cracked. Not collapsed.

Just… opened.

⸻

He had once followed you from the shadows, a boy with too much heart. Now he stood beside you—a man, steady and true. Still looking at you like you were the only thing in the world worth watching.