Hangover
Eren's P.O.V.
I woke up to a gray ceiling. My head hurt a lot and so did my stomach. I tried to stretch, but I couldn't move my arms or legs. I looked over at my hands and saw that they were handcuffed to the wooden armrest of--what I assumed was--a couch. I looked at my feet and saw they were in the same condition. As I tried to wiggle out, a sharp pain shot up through my body.
"Gah! Son of a--!" Before I could finish swearing, I heard a door open behind me. As footsteps drew nearer to me, I readied myself for a rude awakening. A figure stood in front of me, then crouched down to look me in the eye. What I didn't expect to see was a blonde head of coconut smelling hair.
"Wake-y! Wake-y, you weird freaky!" said the blonde child. I looked at him. Once I got a better look at the kid, I realized he was a teenager. And, a hot one at that! That aside, he had beautiful baby-blue eyes that looked as if they were too blue to be real. His skin was light, much lighter than my sun-kissed body. He was as pale as a ghost who had just been scared. He didn't look sick, though. On the contrary, he looked more lively than most nine-year-olds.
"Who are you?" I managed to say, realizing I had been staring at his slightly girlish beauty. He grinned. He showed no teeth, but that didn't matter. He was still a sight to behold.
"So, apparently you really weren't awake last night. Good to know I was basically talking to myself. I'm Armin," he said, voice even more beautiful than face. It sounded like a mother talking to her child, but at the same time it had a slightly deeper tone, definitely caused by a maturing body.
"Nice to know. I'm--." He cut me off.
"Eren Jaeger, I know. Everyone of us do. You're the son of the monster trying to kill us. Isn't that right?" he said, tone changing. I could tell he knew a lot more than he was letting on. I was content with him leading the conversation, though. I was tired and didn't really want to talk. Another pain shot up through my spine.
"AHH! God!" I screamed. The guy named Armin's eyes widened and he took on an even paler shade.
"Where?" he asked. I looked at him in question. He sighed, "Where does it hurt?" I groaned.
"My back......." I said, with a regrettable whimper. He proceeded to push my head down into the couch to examine my back. His junk was right in my face. It was kind of awkward.
"The gashes on your back are starting to get infected. If we don't treat them right away, you could be paralyzed," he said, voice calm and collected.
"How do you know for sure?" I asked, not ready to put my life in his hands. His small, cold, soft hands. He backed up and went toward the other side of the room, where I saw cabinets.
"My parents are both doctors. I grew up reading medical textbooks instead of fairy tales. Trust me I know what I am doing. Now, shut up!" he yelled from across the room. Such an authoritative voice for someone who looked like a waif. He came back with a bottle of clear fluid, a towel, and--what appeared to be--a sock. He set the bottle on the ground in front of me and the towel over his shoulder. Crouching once more, he put the sock to my mouth. "Hurry up and put this in your mouth!" he ordered.
"What?! No! I'm not putting your dirty ass sock in my mouth! That's nasty!" I yelled. He sighed, looked me in the eye, and shoved the thing in my mouth.
"This is going to hurt, so I need you to try and be quiet. The sock is just a precautionary aspect," he said, as I tasted the fabric of the sock. I tried to say something, but it was muted by the sock. "This is Isopropyl Alcohol. It disinfects. It's more commonly known as Rubbing Alcohol. It'll sting. A lot. Please, try and be quiet," he said. My eyes widened.
'What?! Bitch, what are you about to pour onto my back?! Nuh-uh, let me get paralyzed!' I thought. It was too late. He began to pour the clear liquid onto my back, and--holy fuck--did that shit STING!
"Please, stop moving," Armin pleaded. Fuck that! I was in pain! More pain than I had ever experienced before. Before I knew it, I was crying. I was screaming into the sock. Then, I blacked-out. When I gained back my senses, Armin was cowering in the corner, blood on his arm.