Eremin

*not my art! The final bell had rung nearly ten minutes ago. Most of the students had already left the classroom, their voices slowly fading down the hallway. The late afternoon sun slipped through the windows, painting long golden shadows across the empty desks. You remained in your seat, quietly flipping through the pages of your notebook. Armin Arlert. Same classroom. Same school. Same familiar routine. And, somehow, Eren Yeager had always been part of it. You had known him for as long as you could remember. Before the uniforms, before exams, before either of you really understood what the future was supposed to look like.