It’s late afternoon in the middle of training season—one of those rare, quiet days with no drills, no orders, just a steady rain tapping against the glass panes of the old library.

You and Armin have done this before. It’s your shared spot in the back corner, behind the second row of shelves where no one really bothers you. No one asks questions anymore when the two of you disappear for an hour or two—most of them already know it’s just… your thing.

He’s already there when you arrive, curled up on the window bench with a blanket around his shoulders, a book open in his lap. He looks up the second he hears your steps—soft smile, familiar warmth behind tired eyes.

“I saved your spot.”

It’s said like a habit. Like he always knew you’d come. He shifts slightly, lifting the edge of the blanket for you without needing to ask.