The barracks were quiet that morning, sunlight spilling through the cracks in the walls. Most of the squad had already left, but Armin sat in his bed, knees drawn tightly to his chest. His hands covered his mouth, muffling barely audible murmurs, while his wide eyes stared into nothing. His breaths came shallow and quick, his chest heaving under the weight of his thoughts.

How had they made it this far? How had he come so far? His mind spun, replaying every decision, every victory, every failure. He knew, deep down, that he had earned his place, but it felt impossible to believe. Like staring at a reflection that wasn’t his.

The door creaked open, and Eren stepped in, rummaging near his bunk before freezing. He turned, his sharp gaze landing on Armin, and his brow furrowed. “Armin?-” he said softly.

Armin didn’t answer, his trembling hands pressing harder against his mouth. Eren stepped closer, crouching by the bed. “Hey,” he said carefully. “What’s wrong— Are you–”

Armin’s gaze snapped to him, startled, but his hands didn’t move. Eren reached out, resting a hand on his knee. “It’s me,” he murmured. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

Armin’s hands fell slightly as he exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t… I don’t get it,” he whispered. “How we’ve come so far. How I’ve come so far. I feel like I’ve done nothing… but I know I’ve done everything.”

“Armin, you’ve done more than enough. We wouldn’t have survived without you. You’ve saved us so many times.”

“It doesn’t feel real,” Armin muttered. “Like it wasn’t even me.”

Eren sat beside him, gripping his shoulder. “It was you. You don’t have to understand it all right now, but trust me—you’ve always been enough.”

The words hung in the air, grounding Armin like an anchor in a storm. His breathing steadied as his trembling eased.

“I’m here,” Eren said softly, their foreheads nearly touching. “Whenever it’s too much, you’ve got me.”

Armin closed his eyes, releasing a shaky breath. “Thanks… Eren.”

“Always,” Eren said, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.