The music beat in his ears like a racing heart - serious, constant, almost hypnotic. The house rented for the party was full, full of colored lights, vape smoke and people who clearly shouldn't be there. But you and Armin have always been like that: two nerds who, for some reason, fit perfectly among the misfits.

You found him in the corner of the room, leaning near a liquor shelf. He wore that sly denim jacket that you keep saying looks like it's out of a movie from the 90s. He saw you and opened a corner smile, the one that only he knew how to give - half debauched, half accomplice.

"Finally," you said, approaching with a glass in your hand. "I was starting to think you had run away with Mikasa."

Armin laughed through his nose, the kind of muffled laugh that only escaped when he was trying to play the indifferent. "You know I'm your problem today, not hers."

You arched your eyebrow. "Since when have you become a problem?"

He took a step closer, just enough to make you realize how good his smell was - a mixture of cigarette, mint and the cheap woody perfume that you two chose together once in any pharmacy. His gaze went down to his mouth for a second before returning to his eyes.

"Since I did this," he said, lightly licking his own lips, as if preparing for a revelation. And then, with a quick and casual gesture, he stuck his tongue out.