catalyst ⋆˙⟡ nerd!armin arlert x reader

chapter 40 - a ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Jean was going to kill him if he found out about this, which he inevitably had to, assuming he would be the one to come pick you up and take you home, back to Sasha's house, where he would be taking care of you and not Armin.

It took everything in him not to roll his eyes at the idea of Jean in any sort of doctoral situation as he flicked off the closet light and opened the door, only to see you in the same position.

Armin felt a horrible, sinking feeling in his chest as he realized that most of the sources of pain in your life for the past seven months had stemmed from him, and now he had gotten you sick with what he thought was the plague when he first felt a cough coming up his throat.

He figured the first day of the cold was the worst, considering he didn't even remember most of it, only blurs of Mikasa pressing her hand to his forehead as he lay in bed, wallowing in self-pity and wishing you were there. Which is probably why, when he woke up to a loud scream and the sound of metal clanging against stone later in the evening, he figured it was a dream.

Armin could barely believe you showed up to help him in the first place, much less that you had stayed two whole days to make sure he was fine, and all he had to pay you back with was giving you the same sickness that had left him delirious and scratchy-throated.

He cursed to himself as he padded across his room, his wet hair leaving a damp spot on the hem of his shirt as he rounded the bed again, passing his dresser covered in anime figurines Eren's dad had gotten for him over the years, and moved to your side of the bed, crouching once more.

You might have thought he looked like death when you showed up days prior, but he thought he had never seen anything quite as beautiful as you, with flushed cheeks and your hair sticking to your forehead slightly.

Armin reached forward, putting his palm to the back of your head. You were burning up. He kept it there for a second, not quite honing in the fever-detecting skills you and Mikasa both seem to have perfected over the years.

You stirred slightly, groaning as you buried your head in the pillow and wheezed out a cough. You sounded awful, and suffocating yourself was not going to help.

"Hey," Armin said softly, using his hand to brush the hair out of the side of your face that was visible to him, tucking it behind your ear. "Hey, look at me."

You grumbled into the pillow before flipping onto your back and bringing your hands to your face, using the heel of your palm to rub your eyes. "I don't feel good."

Your voice was like gravel, coarse and rough as you let out a soft cough, your hands still over your eyes. Armin found himself nearly melting into the floor, suddenly aware that there was absolutely no way he was going to let Jean take care of you for the next few days; he couldn't bear it.

"I know, baby," Armin said, the name slipping out before he could catch it, his voice low as you moved your hands from your face, and you finally looked at him, glassy and tired eyes meeting his. "I'm sorry."

You blinked at him before rolling onto your side, facing him with one arm curled under your pillow, and the other tucked into your chest. "You got me sick."

Armin nodded slowly. "Yeah, I did."

You tilted away from him, using your free elbow to cough into. It was dry and sounded like popcorn coming up your throat. Armin cringed.