Good to be back, Armin Arlert inhaled the familiar ambiance of his new apartment, a positive smile creeping on his face.

It was not his first time in Germany. He first experienced living at the said country during his internship as a student, young and amateur. Geez. He'll just laugh at the thought of his embarrassing moments throughout his first time. When his internship ended, he went back to New York to finish his master's degree in Aeronautical engineering. There, he found a stable job and a good reputation. His superiors eventually recognized his potential, deciding to send him away to train.

He's young, 'a prodigy' as how his friends describe him, a quick learner. Everyone envied him but he's innocent and wasn't really aware, so no one dared to talk on his back, not that they have something negative to say, except the fact that he has a loud friend named Eren Yaeger.

Three years ago, he promised to return and here he was in his empty apartment, unpacking his things. He listed all the things that he wanted to do beforehand, things that he didn't tried in his internship.

First in the list was feeding pigeons and the thought itself made him jump and throw his fist in the air.

"Oh, yeah!" He cheered!

...

Armin woke up in a summer day, the sunrays already leaking between his window curtains.

Pigeons. The thought pulled him up from his bed to get ready for his work. He danced in the shower along the indie songs he usually plays, allowing him to stay energized the whole day. He took his breakfast at Café Crone, a block away from his apartment before dropping to a nearby store to buy grains and pellets.

At last. He sat on one of the unoccupied benches at the park as he peeked at his watch, making sure that he has enough leisure time. Well, he was an hour earlier than he anticipated, nervously chuckling at the thought of him getting hyped up to feed pigeons.

He took a fistful of grains and threw it at once on the pavement, but the scattered grains seem to catch more of the local's attention than of the pigeons. The passerby's brief gazes slowly melted his confidence as he rubbed back on the bench, almost jumping in surprise when the lady at the next bench started talking to him in English with a German accent.

"They prefer wheat breads." She said before looking back to her sketchpad.

Armin wanted to talk back but his gears stopped processing words, leaving his mouth agape.

"I see, you're welcome." The lady muttered as her eyes were still fixed on what she's doing.

"T-Thank you." Was all he can say, considering that he's not trying to impress, though he understands variety of German phrases.

There was a long silence as he watched the pigeons land at the pavement one-by-one. The lady wasn't wrong. Manufactured grains attract less pigeons, unlike in New York where pigeons will eat any food that you throw on the streets.

The quietness didn't feel a bit uncomfortable for him because the lady won't bother to look at him. He almost felt invisible, but in his opinion, that was better than gaining too much attention.

"They are waiting." The lady talked again, referring to the pigeons that're almost finished with their food. And for a second, Armin thought she was talking to somebody else, but he was throwing brief glances at her every single time and she's clearly not into her phone.

Of course, she was talking to me! He snapped out of his trance as he threw grains again, this time fewer than the first.

His eyes seem to be attracted to her as he fully turned to his side to watch her scribble on her sketchpad, finally gaining composure to start a proper conversation. He can't possibly survive living at a foreign place without making friends, so he thought that he should start now. Moreover, the lady seems nice.

"Do you always go here?" He started, thinking that he should build trust first before asking her name.

The lady gave him a curt nod.

"So, you're an artist." He continued, finally making the lady turn to him, only to give him another nod. At least I got her attention! His sweat dropped.

"Do you love pigeons too?"

He did not expect the next answer he received, a faint smile pulling on the lady's face, saying, "A lot."

Their conversation about birds continued until Armin had subconsciously moved beside the lady to share the same bench. He happily narrated the story on how his love for pigeons started, telling her about his veteran grandfather who always take him at the park to feed turtledoves. He also got a chance to see her sketches of different birds.

"They are beautiful!" He said on every portrait as he got addicted to her smiles.

"Don't you have work?" The lady asked at last, making Armin froze.

Oh shoot. His eyes widened as he looked at his watch.

"Time's fast in Germany!" He cried, making the lady chuckle, "I'm sorry, I have to go!"

Then he was gone, only figuring out that he missed something important when he arrived at work.

"...her name!"

In his hope to see her again, he walked around the park after work but to no avail. He climbed the apartment's stairs like an old woman, thinking that there's nothing more depressing than what happened earlier that morning. I wish I could see her tomorrow. As if his request have been answered, his phone suddenly rang.

...

"What?!" Jean yelled as he rummaged at the fridge to look for booze though Armin already told him that he never drunk alcohol again after his memories got wiped out the night before he flew back to New York. It was pure nightmare.

Jean Kirstein was his first friend in Germany. They attended the same internship program three years ago, also, sharing the same room in the dormitory. They once broke something in the dormitory and hid it on the attic on their first day together. And on their last night, Armin swears he remembered something like a club and bright lights when Jean invited him to drink. Jean would laugh whenever the topic is brought up. He never admitted it directly, but he knew something about Armin's first kiss in Berlin. How could they forget each other?

"Geez. Jean, no drinking." Armin reminded him, closing the fridge in his friend's grasp.

"Yeah, yeah. I sure remember what happened that night. That was wild!" Jean teased.

"You're bluffing. You haven't told me what happened until now."

"Come on. I'm planning to confess it on your wedding." Jean opened the fridge again, "You sure you're not hiding a girl here?"

"That's the fridge. If you're looking for a girl, search under the bed or the closet." Armin stated on a matter-of-fact as the memory of the lady's smile bugged his mind. He leaned his face on his palms to hide his red face, but Jean was not the dense type to not figure that out.

"So, it's true." He grinned, his eyes dilating like he's turning into a teasing monster.

There's no point in hiding so he decided to describe the lady, hoping that Jean already met her. Besides, he was only given a year for the on-the-job-training, so falling in love to a girl he just met for an hour was too qualified for a dream. He wasn't even sure why he's so worked-up in getting her name.

...

The next day, he was more eager to feed the pigeons. According to Jean, if he met a person on Tuesday at a certain place, there's a great chance that he'll meet her again at the same place on any day.

This time, he bought freshly baked bread. He looked around at the same spot he was yesterday but the lady with the cute smile wasn't there. He fed the pigeons, also mindlessly munching the half of it as he watched the birds gather at his feet. He waited another hour, but she never appeared.

Every day, he'll wait at the bench or walk around the park, still hoping to see her again. Jean would sometimes accompany him to visit other places where artists usually go. Then one night before his first month ends, he gave up on Jean's plan to invite him to his place and have a little booze.

"Not the club." He would constantly say on their way to Jean's house.

"At my house, bro. No clubs." Jean swears repeatedly.

When they finally arrived, Armin realized that Jean was pulling a party for him. That's why he was so eager to invite me over. He thought as they were welcomed by Jean's colleagues, most of them are engineers too.

The party continued with Armin learning a lot of things about Jean and his friends who claimed that he was already part of the circle with or without meeting them. He knew they were nice people the first time he saw them, and he was thankful that Jean invited him. They were also able to make him drink a can of beer, but they never tried to push him at his limit.

"You unbelievably have a small circle, Jean." He whispered.

"I don't choose them, they choose me." Jean laughed before receiving a smack from Sasha, the energetic one.

"We are destined to meet each other, don't make it sound like we bought you!" Sasha reasoned out.

"That's not what I mean, dummy!"

Destiny.

"Although, destiny isn't real." Mikasa, the raven-haired and Jean's crush (Armin noted), commented as she placed a bucket of ice cubes on the table.

"B-By the way, Mikasa. Is your friend coming over?" Jean blushed just by simply calling her name.

"No. She has a commission in Stohs."

She. Commission. Armin's head perked up.

"Ow, you're friend is giving off a mysterious vibe! I hope she can join us next time!" Nicolo cheered over the kitchen.

"Can I ask her name?" Jean figured out that Armin was interested, he can say in the way his friend leaned forward, so he asked.

"Annie. Annie Leonhardt."

Jean nodded slowly, sending a brief glance to Armin who was in deep thoughts.

"Does she have a blond hair? Short?" Jean pushed, only receiving an incredulous look from Mikasa.

"What the heck, Jean! Are you a stalker?!" Connie, the bald one, gasped.

"Does she like birds?" Jean leaned forward as excitement started to pour out.

"Yes. How did you know?"

----------------------------------------------

End Note:

To be continued...

And... got 'Stohs' from Stohess.