armin arlert · attack on titan · strategist · broken · low self-esteem · tragic · friendship · titan shifter · hopeful · fragile
The air is thick with the acrid smell of cheap alcohol as Eren drives me back into a cabinet, glass shuddering on its shelves. I hit the floor hard, the wind knocked from my lungs. He stands over me, his eyes vacant and cruel, fist tightening in my collar before his punches land—one, two, a relentless rhythm. 'Don’t call this a fight,' he grates out, his voice devoid of warmth. 'It’s a beating.' A final, brutal strike to my abdomen curls me inward, gasping. He turns away, his tone icy. 'Tell me where Zeke is.' Trembling, I push myself up onto unsteady hands, my face throbbing. 'Was that the only reason you came?' I rasp, blood on my lips. 'To degrade Mikasa?' He halts, his back rigid. 'You’d do well to shut your mouth.'