#» 𝒗. fever dream.

[astutior]

@kerothi | continued from x

"I do, actually..." A pair of blue eyes follow Jean with uncertainty as the taller boy crosses in front of him and dumps a pile of papers on top of the offending ice cream cartons. As if that'll do him any good. The damage is already done. Two empty pints of ice cream in an open top bin are kind of hard to miss, and Jean hadn't been out of his room for two days. It's only natural that someone would come looking for him eventually. Unfortunately, the someone in question just happens to be Armin and his unholy observational skills.

The conversation is lost on him at first. Jean rambles on about the television show for a moment, and when he stops talking Armin realizes... that's all he has to say.

"Wait, that's what this is about?" He can't help but raise an eyebrow. Jean is a lot of things, but Armin never realized he could be such a-- for lack of a better term-- nerd. "You disappeared for two days. I thought you got stood up again or something."

[astutior]

❛  oh, just so you know, i don't ever lose this game.  ❜

@jxwz | dialogue starters.

Well now, that sounds an awful lot like a challenge. Competition isn't usually Armin's cup of tea, but that's likely to change when games are involved. Long afternoons spent at the kitchen table with his grandfather have left him with a knack for cards and board games. As for video games, it's no secret to anyone that Armin spends the majority of his free time absorbed in all kinds of adventures that take place on his computer or television screen.

"Is that so?" He settles himself on the floor beside Porco, taking up the second controller from the coffee table. A bit of competition actually sounds like fun. More so than whatever other nonsense is taking place at this party. He really should stop allowing his friends to coerce him into coming to these things. Then again, if Porco's claims ring true, he might enjoy himself for once.

"Can't say I've ever had much of a losing streak myself." The home screen loads in and Armin waits for Porco to bring them to the character selection. It's an older game, and Armin hasn't played in quite a while. Regardless, he still feels fairly confident in his abilities. "I guess we'll have to see if you can change that."

[astutior]

"Good reviews aside, they still want almost double the original price," he points out. Who has that kind of money to spend on a gaming console? Alright, so maybe Jean does. His family has always been very well-off. But that doesn't mean he should. Is it even his own money he'd be spending here? Armin shakes his head, folds his arms across his chest. He's going to stand firm on this one. In part because he simply cannot relate.

"So you want me to lie to you?" He asks bluntly, brow arched. Armin is nothing if not firmly set in his ideals. "Like I said, you can do whatever you want. I'm just not convinced it's the best investment. There aren't even that many games out yet. Not exclusive ones, anyway."

"What d'ya take me for?" Impatient? Impulsive? Because those traits might be true about him, sometimes, but— "I'm not an idiot. Look, the seller's got some decent reviews..." Which is always his first port of call whenever he's looking to buy something off the internet. This wouldn't be the first post about the new Playstation Jean's scoured over the last week or two either. He's definitely getting desperate.

He glances back at Armin perched by his shoulder behind his desk chair, with a frown for all his sensibility. "Buzzkill." He was meant to encourage, not dissuade him. "You were s'posed to say 'yes, Jean, this is a great idea. Y'should go for it.'"

[astutior]

Armin frowns over Jean's shoulder at the listing on the computer screen. Sure, he'd love a new console, but not for that price. Just thinking about dropping so much money makes him a little queasy.

"You're assuming that post is legitimate. It could easily be a scam."

"Then it's a good thing I got a lot of money, ain't it? C'mon, Blondie, it's a PS5. Everybody wants one. You want one. I can put a sweet bid down, have it by Monday."

[astutior]

Ah, there's the reaction he was trying so hard to avoid. Suspicious, he says. What's so suspicious about leaving out a few insignificant details? Obviously he's just trying to save Jean the trouble of listening to a long-winded, completely uneventful and not interesting at all story. Nothing else.

Ok, so maybe it was a little suspicious of him, but some things are better left unsaid.

"Is it?" Armin tries to play it cool. He can totally get himself out of this. Probably. "I just didn't think my looking for Eren made for a very good story. Did you want me to describe the layout of Reiner's place or something? Pretty sure you're already familiar."

One interesting thing about Armin is that even though he can be a fantastic liar in dire straights, he somehow simultaneously has the worst poker face known to man. Especially when he's trying to weave a lie for his own sake. It's like he's concentrating so hard on saying something believable that he forgets how to control the muscles in his face. Maybe it's the nerves, or perhaps a lack of confidence in his own abilities. Whatever it is, it's not doing him any favors. Nor is his nervous rambling.

Get it together, Armin!

His eyes flick to the bookcase behind Jean just for a second. There's definitely no way he can get his hands on that sketchbook to distract him now. Not with the way he's guarding it like a junkyard dog. Dammit. Maybe there's something else lying around that he can use to his advantage? He'll just take a quick look while he pointedly avoids eye contact.

For the record, it's nobody's business but his own just who or what Jean decides to fill all of his sketchbooks with. Ask any other tortured artist and he's sure they'd admit the same thing, for every one masterpiece they have somehow managed to slave into creation there are dozens upon dozens more that should never see the light of day again.

Some of those pages might have some shameful and just downright insulting attempts at drawing Mikasa's beautiful, flawless face with that subtle little smile she sometimes does, and no, Jean would never be seen again should any prying eyes happen to stumble across those attempts. But hers aren't the only finely detailed features that could be found in those books.

Those aren't Mikasa's big glaring eyes burning intensely back like they're coming right out of the page. It's not Mikasa's laughter lines that crinkle around the corners of them whenever Sasha spills a drink right out of her nose at lunch. It isn't hers that are filled with patience and resignation whenever Jean's in the middle of one of his infamous rants. And it isn't Mikasa's eyes that look like they're practically glowing when they're just inches away from a new book and have some interesting new tidbit to tell.

Needless to say, he's reluctant to leave his works in progress exposed now that an intrigue has been made of them, so Jean only relaxes a little when Armin backs off. He allows himself to readjust after, shifting his weight and settling his hands to his hips albeit the station remains firmly in front of his bookshelf. He cocks his head to the side when Blondie reveals he was the only one to be babysitting Jaeger this time around, because that can only mean Mikasa didn't go. Which is... not exactly unheard of for her to give some social events a decided miss, but still a bit odd, to Jean, considering it was one of Reiner's parties... He's surprised she'd let Eren go without her, whether Armin was there or not. She knows what he's like.

Like that, Jean thinks. Because of course he'd gone AWOL at some point in the night.

But then Reiner and Connie showed up - and then Blondie didn't see him again until morning.

"That's one hell of a blank spot," Jean points out, just casually, before his eyes start to narrow on him ever so slightly. Because it is quite the sudden gap in the story for someone like Armin, who more often than not (be it for his nerves or just his nerdy excitement) tends to branch out on a ton of other factors that he deems important first before he ever just gets to his point.

Huh... The corner of Jean's mouth curls back just a little with his brows furrowed. "Suspicious."

[astutior]

Armin yanks his hand away as if some rabid creature just tried to bite him. It was startling how fast Jean could move when his precious sketches were on the line. So much for that idea. With Jean looming over him— who gave him the right to be so damn tall?— Armin holds both hands up between them in surrender.

"Alright, alright." The aforementioned drawings tacked to the wall make him wonder why Jean feels the need to be so protective. He's got talent. The things hidden away in that sketchbook can't possibly be that bad. Unless he's been busy drawing portraits of Mikasa again. After being shot down. Armin can see how that could be embarrassing.

When Jean doesn't back down despite Armin's white flag of a gesture, he opts to take a step backward. Both to show Jean that his secrets, whatever they may be, are safe, and save himself the trouble of craning his neck just to look at him. Jean seems to accept his win after that, going on to ask a question that makes Armin all but roll his eyes.

"At one of Reiner's parties? Yes. Yes he does," he answers a bit too quickly. But it's the truth. Eren can be a handful on a regular day. Add some booze and lord knows what else to the mix and he becomes a problem. Fast. "But unfortunately for me, I was the only one there this time. I lost track of him about halfway through. And then Reiner and Connie showed up—"

Crap. He probably shouldn't have mentioned that last part, but some small piece of him just wanted to complain. Truthfully, he's still kind of irritated with Eren for running off on him. Who drags someone to a party just to leave them high and dry? Maybe he'll get lucky and Jean won't think anything of it. It's only natural those two were both there after all, right?

"Anyway," he clears his throat. "I didn't see him again until the next morning."

Of course Eren was there. When is he ever gonna miss a party? And he's probably the only person on the planet that could drag Armin out of his little hideaway, pull him from the sanctuary of his books and computer and push him into situations he would not otherwise be in.

Jean might nod along, eagerly, when Armin repeats his choice of phrase, but there really is no true surprise to be had when he fails to share anything exciting. "That's boring..." He makes sure he knows, as he tosses the pillow back to his bed and, disappointed, goes to turn himself around so he can drop himself backwards into the mattress.

However.

His bent knees are quick to straighten up again when he notices Blondie's wandering fingers have made their way onto the top of his sketchbook, evidently still a bit too conspicuous among the rest of his textbooks, and Jean lunges across the tiny room to slap his hand over the spine before Armin can pull it from the shelf.

"Don't," he warns him, staring him dead in his eyes, "touch that." He simply could not live with himself if anyone saw the horrors he's still trying to craft into something less bad before they're anywhere ready to be seen. Jean points to the few old drawings that he's proud of tacked to his wall. "S'those up there that're for your pryin' eyes."

And he stays right where he is, just a bit too close to such an introvert's personal bubble while he guards his forbidden eyesores. But Armin should know by now he's not the only one always so keen to gather up some new information. Jean's interests just tend to reside more in the people he knows, though.

"And does Jaeger really need two babysitters?" He pokes, even if the most likely answer to that is: ...Duh? Jean still says he's a big boy that ought to take care of himself by now. It's just annoying, that's all. How much those two dote on him all the time. "Loosen your apron strings already, won't ya?"

[astutior]

"Since Eren brought me along," he counters, closing the book he was flipping through and sliding it back into place on the shelf. He can feel Jean's eyes on him long before he turns to meet his gaze.

Oh, he does not like that smile.

"Sins?" He repeats the word, regarding Jean the same way a sparrow might look at a cat. And here he was thinking Jean's presence would have been a nice buffer between him and the madness that went along with Reiner Braun's house parties. Maybe it's better that he wasn't there. "Does playing babysitter count?"

It's not a lie, per se. Going anywhere with Eren is a full time job, and Armin is employee of the decade. The thing is, he only had eyes on Eren for the first half of the night. After that, he might have run into Reiner and Connie. And it's a possibility they convinced him to have a drink or two. And maybe those drinks were just a bit stronger than a lightweight like him is used to...

He cringes and turns his attention back to the bookshelf, looking for something specific this time. Jean hates when people go through his sketchbooks. If he could just get ahold of one, maybe it'll put an end to the twenty questions. At least temporarily.

It is a little different, but he will neglect to acknowledge that part because it doesn't fit with the narrative that he's trying to spin here. Jean can be reclusive too, sometimes. It's not that strange. Not like it's unusual for him to be hauled up in his room, sprawled out on his bed, scribbling furiously in his sketchbooks...you know, on a week day.

His teeth click together and shoulders hitch a bit higher to his ears. He wasn't at Reiner's on Saturday - He's surprised that Blondie was. The one time he does finally turn up and it just had to be the same night Jean's chosen to dedicate his evening to the other unattainable love of his life who just had to go stick the knife in and fucking die that day.

But it is highly unlike him to skip a party. About as unlikely as it is for Armin to attend one.

"Since when do you go to Reiner's on a Saturday?" He cleverly deflects, glancing back at him while he finishes batting at and plumping up his pillow. A not-so-subtle grin creeping to his lips because he can just imagine Armin, fresh out of the frying pan and straight into the fire, eyes the size of dinner plates, as he wanders from one smoke-filled room to the next, slightly more questionable scene (and potential crime.)

He's not gonna ask him who else was there. Not right off the bat, anyway. He's gotta play it cool, especially since Armin's already started fishing. Besides, this is far more interesting.

A chesire sort of mischief pulls that smirk a little wider as he asks, "Got 'ny sins ya might wanna confess to, Blondie? Did'ja let your hair down? Tell me ya did."

[astutior]

Alright, maybe that came out a tad more harsh than he meant it to. He only saw it for a flash, but the look on Jean's face before he turned his back screamed I AM OFFENDED. Whoops.

Armin watches his friend fiddle with his bedsheets. Smoothing out creases, straightening pillows. Avoiding Armin's gaze as best he can in such a small space. The blond turns his attention to a nearby shelf in an act of mercy, feigning interest in the various books and items resting there.

"That's different," he says, pulling one of the books off the shelf to inspect. Introverts like him belong hidden away from time to time. Reading, studying, losing himself in a good video game. He'd cease to function without that sort of downtime. "You weren't at Reiner's on Saturday. That's not like you."

Not that Armin wanted to be there himself. Reiner's infamous parties can get a little crazy, to say the least. All those substances. Nevertheless, Eren had been on his case for weeks leading up to this one, and when Mikasa finally put her foot down and adamantly refused to go, he practically begged Armin to come along. Of course, he relented, even though Eren sort of ditched him halfway through. As expected.

Again, all those substances.

Historically speaking. Jean stops in his tracks, turns his attention back to Armin again. He's sure he doesn't need to say anything. There's no doubt in his mind that his offense is so plain on his face it might as well be written on his forehead in big bold letters: OUCH.

But Armin has this thing about him, see. He's got this uncanny knack of saying the most scathing things and then he immediately turns around, with these big ol' puppy-dog eyes, right, and he says something like, "I was worried."

And it's just...how is Jean meant to punch him after that?

He sags his shoulders, rolling his eyes and then himself away so he can remake his already half-assedly made bedsheets. Not that he's suddenly concerned about the impression Armin might be left with about him, or anything. Obviously. It's just to keep himself busy.

He neglects the chance at glancing back again, just in case Blondie catches on to how close on the mark he really is. Nothing's wrong, per se. But historically speaking, the anticipation of the weekend's events have turned out more fruitful and exciting than the reality has.

"What, s' it only okay when you go full hermit on us? I still had my phone-" Somewhere. "-it's not like I was hunkered down in Fort Knox or nothin' like that."

[astutior]

Thin shoulders weren't built to withstand the wrath of a man scorned. Armin teeters awkwardly when Jean's big hand claps down on him with just a teensy bit more force than he's accustomed to. Enough to render an involuntary oof out of him.

"I didn't mean it like that," he deflects, while Jean pushes past him. Armin follows along behind him, squinting when a burst of sunlight comes pouring in through the now open curtains. He hadn't fully registered just how dark it was in there. "It just seemed like the most likely scenario, historically speaking."

Okay, so maybe Armin misjudged him a little. Jean always struck him as more of a party boy than the type to spend 48 hours binging Netflix alone in his room. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's more Armin's speed than a night out drinking, that's for sure. But falling off the radar every now and then isn't a big deal for someone like him. No sign of Jean Kirstein for an entire weekend was cause for concern.

"I was worried," he finally admits, albeit sheepishly. "I thought something might be wrong. Aside from the Duffer Brothers' unfortunate writing choices, I mean."

"...Yes?" Jean replies, just as dubiously. Not really sure what else Armin might've been expecting. Until he points out he's been radio silent all weekend and therefore simply just had to assume he must've gone and gotten his heart stomped on. Again.

"Wow..." Jean huffs right back at him, feeling like the winds been taken out of his already battered sails. "Way t' kick a man when he's down, buddy. I really appreciate that, thanks." He sneers, smiling sarcastically at him as he claps down his hand in an equally sarcastic gesture of gratitude on top of his shoulder, before he slips around him again to go and push the curtains open a bit wider. Try and brighten up the place some. Make it not look so miserable in here.

Besides, it's kinda hard to get stood up with no date for him to get stood up by in the first place, but Armin probably knows that already. It's hardly a secret with Eren around that Mikasa had shot him down about a month ago.

"I jus' wasn't feelin' it, that's all. Thought I'd get more joy outta bingin' my favorite series this weekend, but," his laugh is dryer than the sun. "Look how that turned out."