Armin Angst - Tumblr Posts

grief and heartache

pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Warnings: pregnancy, cheating. small font only for the disclaimers!

WC: 993

(A/N: did y'all ask for Armin angst? no? that's crazy.)

The waiting room is bland and minimally decorated, but just colorful enough to keep your interest. There’s a TV playing the news, and the receptionist has been answering several calls back to back. Lots of people must be expecting around this time, you muse.

Armin hasn’t responded to any of your recent messages. You asked him to come with you to your doctor’s appointment, but he brushed you off with a simple “busy rn, but I will next time.” You didn’t think much of it. Coming up on both of your final years in college has been extremely busy, and you’ve only been able to see him infrequently. Mostly in your dorm, only a few quickies before you two went days again without speaking.

There isn’t a label on your relationship with Armin. You think of it as a friends-with-benefits deal, since otherwise you’d officially be his first girlfriend. Armin has always been shy, so the idea of commitment is likely the last thing on his mind.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. The couple that came in before you are called in next, and your heart hammers in your chest.

He doesn’t know that you’re pregnant, and you’ve been too afraid to confront that fact yourself, either. You tried to dismiss your symptoms as anxiety coming up due to finals and your daunting capstone paper, but as days melded into weeks and after several positive pregnancy tests later, you worked up the courage to book your first appointment. You only hope you can also work up the courage to tell Armin.

What will he think? How will he react? Armin overthinks things at the best of times; what if this distracts him from his work? Should you wait until finals are over?

You hear a door open down the hall. A doctor is wishing someone well, presumably as they prepare to leave, and you take a deep breath. You can worry about Armin later. Right now, you have to figure out how you’re going to manage a pregnancy with—

You hear a familiar woman’s voice call your name, and immediately your head shoots up.

“Annie?”

She waves at you, a bit awkwardly, as she shuffles on her feet. You haven’t seen her in a while, and immediately your eyes are drawn to the sizable bump on her belly and your jaw drops. Annie’s pregnant too? How? Since when?

You wouldn’t say the two of you were the closest of friends, but throughout your freshman year Annie has been your study partner before your courses diverged. You saw her around campus occasionally and would text on and off, but that was about it.

You want to ask so many questions. How far along is she? Is she with Bertholdt still? How was she feeling?

All of your questions die in your throat when you see Armin round the corner shortly afterwards, followed by the doctor, and loop an arm around her waist. When you two make eye contact, you watch panic spread across his face before it quickly morphs into an icy glare. Behind Annie, he gives a quick, but telling, shake of his head.

Keep your fucking mouth shut.

Busy. He was “busy”. You think about all the times Armin blew you off under the guise of being “busy”. You think about how, in hindsight, you guys only met up for brief, half-assed “dates” and a hookup. You think about how adamant he was about just hanging out with you, about not wanting to introduce you to his friends. He fed you the excuse of them being “loud” and dropped it.

(You find out later it’s because his friends don’t like you. You, the “crazy clingy girl” that’s been harassing poor little Armin and incessantly bothering him after you two briefly met in just one class. You, the girl that’s been trying to coerce him into a relationship despite his numerous rejections of you. You, the girl that’s been trying to get close to his friends just to keep tabs on Armin as a way of tracking his every movement.

You met Eren once by accident. You politely greeted him while passing by at the grocery store. If looks could kill, the glare he leveled at you would’ve turned you into ash.)

Annie looks uncomfortable, giving you a wary stare as the doctor takes ages to say goodbye and finally lets them go.

Your stomach is turning inside out. Your eyes are burning, and you feel like you can’t breathe. You’re acutely aware of their presence as they leave the doctor’s office.

(Do they know about all the times Armin’s told you he loved you? Do they know that you were his first sexual partner, that you showed him the proper way to put on a condom—not that it does you any favors now. Do they know about all the times you’ve had him at your dorm after he was dragged to a long night out with his friends?)

Your mother used to say processing grief and heartbreak had the same steps. You’re sure, in a day or so, you’ll be teeming with rage. You’re sure the image of Armin fucking Arlert, of all people, will make you see red. You’re sure that the thought of that scrawny fucking nerd making you look like a fucking idiot will make you want to destroy a building.

But right now, you’re crumbling. You can’t see two feet in front of you through the fat tears flooding your eyes right now. You can’t hear past your heartbeat hammering in your chest. If you stand up now, you don’t think your legs will be able to support you.

You finally hear the receptionist, loud and a bit impatient, call your name again. “Excuse me? The doctor is ready to see you!”

The room must be ready. The same one Armin and Annie walked out of. Together. A couple.

You stand. 

Your legs give out.

You wail.