Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4224891.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Armin_Arlert_&_Erwin_Smith, winmin, Mikasa_Ackerman/Eren_Yeager
  Character:
      Armin_Arlert, Eren_Jaeger, Mikasa_Ackerman, Erwin_Smith, Levi_ackerman,
      Jean_Kirchstein, Marco_Bodt, Connie_Springer, Sasha_Braus, Minor
      Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Swimming, Track_and_Field, Childhood
      Friends, asexual!Armin, Bisexual!Eren, possessive!eren, Disabled
      veteran!Levi, Veteran_Erwin, Teacher-Student_Relationship, Dysfunctional
      Relationships, Manipulation, Abuse_of_Authority, Pedophilia, Emotional
      Hurt/Comfort, Slow_Burn, Really_really_slow_burn, Alternate_Universe_-
      1960s, Internalized_Homophobia, Racial_slurs, Grooming, one-sided_Jean/
      Armin_-_Freeform, past_eruri
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-06-28 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2603
****** Dry Drowning ******
by AlvaDomer, terminally_fated
Summary
     It's 1964 when Armin begins high school. It's also when what started
     as admiration and a desperate need for approval by his coach slowly
     blossomed into a friendship. But when that relationship starts
     becoming more, Armin begins struggling with keeping it a secret,
     while his best friend Eren tries to find out the truth.
Notes
     So Kumikoko actually helped me a lot with this story at the start,
     but the original plot has changed SO much since the beginning that
     it's honestly not much of the same story we began with. My editor was
     also my partner in crime for this fic, helping me make decisions and
     research.
     I just. I love history so much. So I gave in to my whims and made it
     a 60s fic (obviously) in San Francisco. This is probably the story
     I've ever put the most effort into, especially when it comes to
     learning about the period, so I hope you enjoy this! The perspective
     will change between Armin, Eren, and occasionally Mikasa.
     Warning for creepy grooming in just about every chapter.
     Let's rage.
See the end of the work for more notes
              What am I doing here? Armin couldn't help but wonder, peering
over the pool's edge.
 
             His reflection stared back at him from the still surface; thick
eyebrows knitted, pale pink lips sealed almost painfully tight, dull blue eyes
shimmering with anxiety. He watched himself fumble with the loose threads of
his towel. I look even worse than I thought, he realized hopelessly.
 
             Swallowing nervously, Armin glanced up at those surrounding him.
Familiar names and not quite as familiar faces. Connie had apparently decided
to shave his head, and knowing him it was probably the result of a dare. His
jaw was sharper and he had obviously forgone sunscreen over the past few
months.
 
             Armin felt his fingers travel to his own face self consciously.
His mandible remained as round as a child's, with even Mikasa's jaw being
sharper than his own. It was pathetic! And his skin? All it ever did was burn.
Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Spending five hours in the sun
every day? He was asking for nothing but pain. I'm so stupid. Armin's mind
repeated like a mantra.
 
             Marco's voice had grown at least ten times deeper and had gained
several inches in height. Armin could hear him talking about his dad teaching
him how to shave and shifted uncomfortably. I wonder what that's like. Whether
the thought was directed at shaving or having a father, Armin wasn't sure.
 
             But he did know he lacked both experiences; and he knew how his
own voice still sounded horrifically feminine, able to hit pitches that made
him ashamed. No hope remained in height either, having grown maybe an inch
since eighth grade had ended.
 
             There were a few others that made Armin cling to his stomach as if
it held himself together; Nac and Mylius, Samuel and Franz. But out of all of
them, Jean had by far changed the most. He had grown into the remaining baby
fat of his cheeks, leaving a much longer face in its stead. Eren won't hesitate
to mock him for that. The sudden thought almost brought a smile to Armin's
face. But there was still so much that made him realize just how inferior he
was to everyone else. A piercing sparkled from Jean's right ear, and aviators
rested on his nose. Yet what made Jean look the most mature was the chest hair
beginning to sprout.
 
             Armin's eyes dove back toward his reflection, but there was no
solace in a body he hated. His scrawny, awkward frame, void of any body hair
that could be considered "manly" only made him second guess everything.
 
             I shouldn't even be here, his mind continued on its tirade, I'm
just going to be cut from the team before practice even starts. I should've
stayed home/. What /had/ made him think he could do this?! Armin didn't have
the build, didn't have the strength or stamina. Just a love of water since he
was young.
 
             If only he could--an arm was suddenly around his shoulders, a
voice practically screaming in his ear, "Whoa don't slip!" And then he was
flying face first into the pool.
 
             Armin's heart skipped a beat as freezing water bit into his skin.
He floated for a moment, stunned still, until the chill shocked him into
action.
 
             Gasping frantically, he shot to the surface. How long had he been
under?! Only a few seconds, logic assured him as his mind screamed it had been
hours. Heart still racing, Armin's eyes shot up as he heard a grating,
obnoxious laugh.
 
             Jean's shadow enveloped Armin as he stood above him, hands on his
hips. "Sorry Armin, by the way you were staring it looked like you really
wanted to get in!"
 
             As malicious laughter continued swirling around him, Armin began
to scramble out of the water. Oh no, oh no oh no oh no. He wasn't going to let
himself cry on the first day, not in front of the entire team. But having
arrived late, he had only been told they weren't allowed in until Coach came
back. What would happen if--when--Coach found out he had broken the rules?
Would he believe that Armin was only pushed in? Of course not, it was never
that easy! I knew it, I'm cut, I'm going to be cut before I even try out.
Armin's hands balled into fists.
 
             He glanced around for his towel, only to find it at Jean's feet,
soaked from the wave he had kicked up from falling in.
 
             Don't give him the reaction he wants, Armin counseled himself
desperately. But even the voice in his head was trembling, struggling to remain
calm as sixteen eyes burned into him. Relax. Breathe, Armin, breathe. He knew
so much as a scowl or a splash could plant a target on his back for the rest of
the year.
 
             So Armin scooped up his towel without a sound, never allowing his
lip to so much as quiver. By some miracle he was keeping the flush from his
face, but the flames of shame still burned.
 
             "What's the matter, Arlert? Got nothing to say?" Jean sneered.
Armin kept his gaze trained firmly to the floor, but that awful, cocky smirk
was still obvious in his voice.
 
             "Alright soldiers, line up!" The first thing Armin heard of his
coach was a deep baritone voice; dominating, commanding, powerful.
 
             The boys were scrambling to obey without question. Side by side,
Armin hunched his shoulders, trying to shrink smaller until he was completely
out of sight. A puddle was already forming beneath him, and if the
authoritative voice was anything to go by, he was about to be in some serious
trouble.
 
             That was when their coach strolled through the gate to the pools,
oozing confidence in each long stride. Armin found himself glancing back and
forth between the man and the ground. He was aesthetically pleasing to the eye,
there was no doubt about that; perfectly parted blonde hair with no strand out
of place, high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, and deep, calculating blue eyes.
Even in a t-shirt and swim trunks, the coach seemed highly disciplined and
would expect the same from his team.
 
             "My name is Erwin Smith," he greeted without much emotion. "I'll
be your coach this year, and I won't be going easy on you."
 
             Armin's mouth ran dry. Now he was sure more than ever he shouldn't
have even bothered coming here.
 
             Coach Smith began pacing down the line, checking the list of those
who had signed up in his hand. "Jean?"
 
             Armin caught it instantly. Didn't coaches usually use last names?
It was only a slight difference, hardly noticeable, but it still caught him off
guard.
 
             "Here!" Jean replied, and Coach Smith gave him a nod.
 
             "Connie?"
 
             "Right here!"
 
             "Ar..." Coach's voice trailed off as Armin was enveloped in his
shadow. Here it comes, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut fearfully. He willed
himself to shrink even further, blushing as his hair dripped.
 
             "That's me," Armin mumbled, an embarrassed flushing even brighter.
This was a great first impression.
 
             "I gave explicit instructions to wait until you had supervision
before getting in the pool," Erwin stated firmly. "Why did you get in the
water?"
 
             The question was much quieter, almost forgiving, and Armin forced
himself to look up. The coach's eyes had softened, obviously aware of how
uncomfortable he was.
 
             "I slipped," Armin lied flawlessly, but a slight frown settled on
Coach Smith's face.
 
             "Accidents can't be helped," the coach replied, breaking into a
shockingly warm smile.
 
             The tension in the air evaporated instantly.
 
             "As for practice, it will be difficult but, let's have some fun."
He's not so bad, Armin thought, unfolding his arms from across his stomach.
"Let's start with the basics. Everyone hop in; I want to see what you can do
before we start learning the proper techniques."
 
             With loud splashes, everyone took a lane. I can kind of do
freestyle, Armin decided, quickly losing himself to the water rushing past his
skin. It was always soothing, a distraction from a mind that never stopped
racing.
 
             With a quick somersault, he launched off the opposite wall and
began his second lap. But when he came up for air, Coach was already calling
everyone to where he stood waist-deep.
 
             "Alright everyone," he called, "I see several of you who are in
need of a little demonstration."
 
             I'm sorry, Armin immediately wanted to blurt, looking at the poor
floor shamelessly. No matter how relaxed the water made him, he always had to
be snapped back to reality.
 
             "Armin, would you please do a lap for us?"
 
             Wait, what?He simply floated there, stunned for a moment. Why
would Coach Smith want to use him for a demonstration? His breathing was
already growing harsh, a steady throb settling into his weak muscles. It was
pathetic. He was pathetic!
 
             "O-okay," he forced himself to murmur, gut twisting under the
number of eyes watching him with disinterest.
 
             Returning to freestyle, Armin just did what he always had,
streaking across the pool, pivoting off the wall, and returning to the group as
directed. There was nothing special about it, he had no idea why his coach
would want him to show everyone.
 
             Unless it was to show what not to do.
 
             Armin was suddenly flooded by the overwhelming need to puke. He
couldn't handle this much embarrassment on the first day. School hadn't even
started yet and he was already the favorite target.
 
             Erwin beckoned Armin over, and with feet of lead, he obeyed.
Please, please go easy on me, Armin prayed, flinching slightly as Coach Smith
took hold of his shoulders.
 
             Coach spun him around so that he was facing the rest of the team,
moving his grip to Armin's wrist. Fully extending his arm, Coach Smith began,
"Did you all see how Armin used his full reach? That's what you should all be
doing," he explained, and Armin felt his jaw drop.
 
             He wants everyone to do...whatIwas doing? There had to be some
sort of mistake! He couldn't do anything right, this had to be a cruel joke.
 
             Armin suddenly cringed as he felt Coach Smith press against his
back. He still hadn't let go of his wrist either, despite finishing his
instructions.
 
             He held his tongue, but Armin noticed how none of the boys seemed
to find the prolonged contact strange. I'm being paranoid, he dismissed
himself, chewing his inner cheek. There would probably be plenty of contact
over the season if this could be taken as evidence.
 
             Probably just something he would have to get used to.
 
                                      ...
 
             I'm going to die. Even his thoughts sounded out of breath. Armin
nearly had to flop out of the pool onto the concrete, entire body aching. He
could hardly feel his legs and he couldn't remember the last time his chest had
burned like this.
 
             "Great job today, boys!" Erwin called, and suddenly the burn
wasn't so bad. It wasn't too hard to believe that praise extended to him too,
and it made him...kind of happy. Excited, even.
 
             Coach Smith was everything Armin wasn't, and yet here he was,
already proud of them even in the beginning. And maybe, Armin dared to hope,
proud of him too. Two hours of agony was starting to seem worth it.
 
             As everyone started home, Armin felt a large hand on his back.
"Good work today, Armin! I have a feeling we're going to be a great team as
long as we have you on our side." Coach Smith was so sincere that Armin nearly
wanted to scream for joy.
 
             This wasn't something he could remember feeling in a long time. He
was already starting to feel a budding trust with this man, and he found
himself thinking that the next torture session couldn't come fast enough.
 
             "I'm looking forward to tomorrow," Armin admitted shyly, and Coach
Smith's smile widened.
 
             "So am I, Armin. So am I."
 
                                      ...
 
             Armin sat on the front steps of Saint Maria's Preparatory right
where Eren said to wait; heaving a breath as his head dropped into his hands.
The sun was starting to set and Eren still wasn't done? It was their first day!
 
             His ears twitched as he heard the door open and shut behind him,
and he watched a pair of slacks step up beside him. "Where is your mother?"
 
             Armin had known him for a day and that deep voice was already
recognizable. Even though it was his own coach, he still had to bite back a
sarcastic, You want to know? So do I! instead his mind was racing to tell as
little as possible. Because, surprise, he thought sourly, family was a subject
he didn't even want to begin to broach with Coach Smith.
 
             "I can give you a dime for the booth at the corner if you want to
call her," he offered, but that just made Armin's bitterness sink further into
his heart.
 
             "My grandpa is in the hospital so I just walk home," Armin
explained brusquely with some guilt and some satisfaction. He had never used
that tone with a teacher, but he definitely wasn't ready to explain his missing
parents. It was easier to just directly imply they weren't around anymore.
 
             "Oh," Coach Smith murmured, voice thick with sickening sympathy.
This was why he didn't tell people more often. "I can drive you home if you
like," he added after a moment.
 
             Armin bit his lower lip. Hitching a ride did sound nice. But he
had promised Eren he'd walk home with him, and he'd never hear the end of it if
he just ditched him.
 
             "Thank you Coach Smith, but I promised a friend I would wait for
him," Armin said, rising to his feet.
 
             "That's fine, but you're welcome anytime you'd like a ride," Coach
promised, and started off down the street.
 
             Now it was just a waiting game for Eren. I hope it went as well
for him, Armin thought rather dreamily, smiling without realizing it. He
couldn't wait to tell Eren about it!
 
             "Guess who's finally free!" a voice crowed.
 
             "Finally!" Armin teased, ignoring the light punch to his shoulder.
"So how was hurdling? Still glad you didn't join the swim team with me?"
 
             "Oh it was just groovy," Eren replied sarcastically, face
completely unamused.
 
             "I have a feeling you're lying," Armin laughed, following his
friend down the stairs.
 
             "No shit!" Eren snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration.
"You should've seen our coach though, Ar, it was dumb as hell."
 
             "What do you mean?" Armin asked curiously as they made their way
out of the mission district.
 
             "He had a fucking cane! Our own coach can't even run! How do they
expect someone like that to teach us how to hurdle?" he snorted incredulously.
 
             Armin frowned. "You shouldn't talk about people like that," he
scolded, but Eren just rolled his eyes.
 
             "Why? He sure talked shit about us the whole time."
 
             Armin raised his eyebrows. "I can see why," he snickered, glancing
at Eren's knees. Both of them had been scraped open, still bleeding slightly.
 
             "What? Oh yeah, I hit the hurdles a couple times," Eren stated
plainly as if it didn't matter. Does it even hurt? Can he feel the pain? Armin
wondered, although considering all the years he had known him, Eren probably
couldn't.
 
             Armin shook his head. "Should've joined swimming," he said with
false disappointment. "It was actually really fun." As they crossed the street,
he added, "I think I'm going to really enjoy this year."
 
End Notes
     I'm sure this is what everyone was looking forward to; a slow-ass fic
     instead of updates on literally anything else I've been working on.
     Sorry everyone :(
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their work!