[Are the drops on her hands her own or his?]

I… I love you, too. [There’s no hesitation to the sentiment. She just wants it out without a crack—but oh, is it a desperate thing. They’ll never say it enough.] I love you, Armin.

[He won’t see her lean, but he’ll feel the tug from trembling fingers, the brush against the tip of his nose, the shaking breath on his lips.] I love you, Armin… [And she tries her damndest to kiss him.]