Equilibrium | Nerd! Armin x Popular! OC

She wasn't annoyed, she was—okay, maybe annoyed.

Seriously.

2 days have passed and for some stupid reason, she couldn't stop thinking about a certain someone.

Reina wasn't the kind of girl who came to the library.

Not because she didn't care about school—she did, in her own way—but the silence made her skin itch. She liked people. Movement. Noise.

Here, it was too quiet, it was too easy to think.

And lately, thinking meant him.

Blonde, too quiet for someone so blunt. She kept replaying it: the way his eyes held her like she wasn't some spectacle, like he actually saw her—and didn't flinch.

Armin Arlert

"Come on! You went here to clear your mind and actually do shit, not...." She ran her hands through her hair as she sighed.

Initially, she knew him as the "unknown blonde nerd with glasses" that she met in the party. But due to her lingering desire to know him and a bit of...deep research, she found out his name and that his course is Literary Theory and Criticism under the Literature and Creative Writing department in the Maria building and his favorite pl—

Believe it or not, she hadn't planned to see him again. But fate had a thing for irony.

Because as she turned the corner in the literature aisle—looking for a book her professor insisted they read—she nearly collided into a body again.

And fate laughed a sweet laugh.

Armin.

Same messy hair. Hoodie too big for his frame. A copy of The Bell Jar in his hand, index finger tucked into a worn page.

They both froze. He blinked at her like she was a hallucination.

"You—" she started, then stopped. Her voice echoed too loudly in the silence.

"You," he said simply. Not cold. Not warm. Just surprised.

There was a pause—awkward, long, humming with static.

Reina recovered first. Sort of.

"You stalking me now?" she smirked, leaning against the nearest shelf.

Armin raised a brow, unconvinced. "In the Lit aisle?"

"Maybe I'm branching out."

He didn't reply, just watched her. His gaze wasn't judgmental—it was analytical. Like he was reading her. And somehow, that made her squirm more than if he had flirted back.

"Right..." she tried again, more serious this time. "About the other night."

"It was a party," Armin said, voice quiet but pointed. "Stuff happens."

She hated how easily he shrugged it off—how unbothered he seemed while she'd spent days wondering why the hell his voice haunted her when she lay awake at 2 a.m.

But maybe that was exactly what unnerved her.

"I said sorry, didn't I?"

"You did." A beat. "Twice."

Another beat.

"But?"

Armin met her eyes, and this time his voice was just a bit lower—soft, almost amused.

"You're not used to people walking away from you, are you?"

And there it was. That gut-punch honesty again. Reina stiffened.

"No," she admitted, jaw tightening. "I'm used to people either falling in line or trying to impress me."

"Guess I missed the memo," Armin said, returning his eyes to the book. "I'm not very good at playing roles."

"Maybe you should be."

He looked up. "Maybe you should stop expecting everyone to."

That one landed.

The silence stretched again, only this time—it was different. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was sharp, like a held breath neither of them knew how to release.

"You have a sharp tongue, y'know that?" She furrowed her brows, still keeping her arms crossed.

"I've been told." He looked straight at her, arms crossed, mirroring her movement. His finger still clipped between the pages of his book.

"But seriously, I want to make it up to you...I feel bad." She continued, "You walked out like you didn't care, but who knows? You could've went to your dorm and sulked about how a pretty girl ruined your favorite white tee." She pouted, teasing him again.

"Aww, how'd you know? I knew you were a stalker." He stuck his tongue out revealing his tongue piercing, amusing the girl in front of him.

"Is that a yes?"

"N—"

"Yes!" She grabbed his vacant arm, pulled out a pen from her pocket, and started jotting whatever.

Armin couldn't move—not that he had a choice. Or maybe he did, maybe he just didn't want to waste this moment, maybe it was the way he couldn't keep his eyes off her focused figure as her hair covered half her face.

"Armin?" He hadn't noticed she finished writing on his arm.

He also didn't know that the book he was holding is now on the floor and his then occupied hand, is now removing the annoying strand of hair, fully revealing her flushed face.

But just as quickly as that boldness slipped out from his grasp—his eyes shifted. The openness disappeared behind a practiced calm, like a curtain pulled too fast.

He stepped back, picking up his book, then clutching it against his body like a shield.

He offered her the ghost of a smile. Not the soft kind from the party. This one was... startled. Anxious.

"Anyway, good luck with Sylvia Plath. You'll hate her."

Then he turned and walked off—leaving nothing behind but the scent of old pages and everything he didn't say.

Reina was dumbfounded.

Her hand tingled where he'd slipped from her fingers, and her heart felt... hot. Or was it her cheeks? It was as if someone had rearranged her entire emotional furniture and left without cleaning up the mess.

She covered her face with both her hands.

What the hell was that?

🤓🖊️

Yes, I did just google "literature college courses" and picked the first one I saw. Also, I'm afraid he's too nonchalant in this fic. I want him to be more nerdy and geeky ugh wouldn't that just be so hot?