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(game erwin is so delectable i swear—)
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You woke up with a hangover the next day, an almost unbearable hangover that made you regret yesterday's decisions as soon as you opened your eyes.
You sigh in disappointment at yourself as you cup your head in your hands to try and soothe your headache.
I'm never drinking again.
You look at the end of the bed where Armin is sleeping for some reason. You can tell that he was only there because he fell asleep on the first surface he could find; that much was obvious based on the fact that he was still wearing yesterday's clothes.
But... you don't remember him coming home. In fact, you hardly remember coming home yourself.
The entire night is a blur, one that has flashes of Mr. Smith in it and—
Then reality hits you.
You gasp and cover your mouth to conceal your shock, and the fast motion you made to do so causes Armin to groan awake.
Mr. Smith brought me home-
You think about how embarrassing that must of been, him seeing you in a drunken state. It wouldn't be the first time, but you can't tell if that makes it better or worse.
"My head is pounding" Armin groans and rolls over onto his back, his arm flung over his forehead.
"You and me both" you pull back your blanket as you speak and then you step out of bed. You stretch, still tired and very much hungover.
Armin rolls back over onto his stomach and wraps his arms around a chunk of your blanket to use it as a pillow.
"I'm going to get us some water" you say.
He just makes some indistinguishable noise in response, but you take it as a 'thank you'.
You step out of your room and walk to the kitchen where you grab a glass for Armin and one for yourself. You place them on the counter, yawning as you turn and open the fridge.
What time is it?
It felt early, but the bright afternoon sun peaking in through the curtains suggested otherwise.
You look across the room to read the clock Armin insisted you hang, though you've never used it once before this moment.
When you read it you gasped. It was already past three and if you knew anything about your father it was that every event he's ever hosted started at five.
He was a habitual person.
You drag your hands down your face and audibly breathe out in annoyance at yourself.
