Armin's Room: A Fictional Narrative

Armin kept his hands clasped together in his lap, pulling and twisting at his fingers like an old dish rag. His nerves were at an all time high and the stress was eating away at his insides like a persistent virus that wouldn't go away. Armin shifted nervously in his chair, his fingers remained intertwined, and he clenched his jaw. He glanced around the room, from corner to corner, as if he was waiting for something, or someone, to pull him out of this nerve-wracking situation.
"S-sir, I appreciate your help. But, I feel as if the incident that took place Friday, won't ever be repeated. Please, just let me handle this on my own. I know I shouldn't.... I want to, but... I-I'm sorry I just can't tell you their names. " Armin sighed shifting his gaze to the

He pulled the scarf off and wound it around Armin's neck to help stop his trembling. The soft, dark blue fabric helped defend against the biting cold. Armin blushed, holding onto the scarf with one hand. However his blush went unnoticed, due to the freezing weather, his cheeks were already rosy red. Jean stuffed his hands into his coat pockets before continuing, "you don't have to tell me who did it, if you don't want to. But I atleast deserve to know what happened in Mr. Smith's office, don't you think?"
Armin nodded numbly, looking over at the anthill once again. He often thought about silly things in the most inappropriate times. For instance, right now he was wondering where the queen ant was right now. What is she doing down in that anthill? Of course Armin was fascinated with the idea of an underground colony. But, why was he thinking about this of all times? Perhaps it was just a nervous habit.
"Mr. Smith disagreed at first." Armin breathed. Jean nodded, urging the boy to continue. "However, when I suggested the idea of keeping a close eye on the two of them, Mr. Smith hesitantly gave in. But... I just really didn't want them to be kicked off the football