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“Don’t choke.”
Porco gags and coughs into his sleeve, half-empty stein clutched tight in his right hand. Tears line his lashes by the time his throat unclogs. “What the hell, Pieck?”
“… You were drinking too fast.”
“It’s called ‘chugging.’”
Pieck blinks at him, then turns to the bartender. “I’ll have the same.” A strand of long brown hair slips over her shoulder and drops into her vision as she slides a few coins across the counter.
Porco lifts his mug again and sips his beer. It takes effort to stop his eye from twitching. Why is she like this? Why can’t she order wine or some kind of fruity drink like the other girls in the club? His gaze follows the barkeep over the rim of his glass as the guy fills and hands her another stein. The bartender smiles at her. She smiles back. It’s soft, hardly there—quintessentially Pieck. Porco’s grip tightens around the handle of his mug.
She turns toward him. Porco drops his eyes and tosses back the last of his beer. “Enjoy, I guess.” He slams the empty mug on the counter and stands, three-legged stool scraping against the tiles. Pieck grabs his arm. He jolts back, almost toppling the abandoned stool, and yanks his arm free. “What?”
“You’re leaving?”
He stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets. “There’s no reason to stay.”
“But … I just got here.”
Porco grits his teeth.
When they’re training or on mission, things are … different. They have no choice but to rely on one another. Become a family. Pieck, Reiner, Zeke … The bonds they share because of their circumstances are unparalleled. And unbreakable. At least, those formed and strengthened by being troops in arms. Any one of them would do anything to keep the others alive. Because the cost of losing another of Marley’s best soldiers is too steep—and it’s a price they’ve already had to pay.
He's already had to pay.
But this? When the dust has settled? When active battle has been stripped away from them? When they’re granted a reprieve, regardless of how short, from fulfilling their role as weapons of war, everything changes. It has to. Because no matter how much they try to delude themselves into believing they really are people, they can never truly thrive. They can only survive.
Tomorrow’s meal isn’t promised. Waking, breathing—loving; from one blink to the next, they can lose everything. And so too then will all Eldians.
“Like I said, there’s no reason to stay.” Porco turns away and strides toward the crowd swarming and writhing around on the dance floor.
“I miss him too.”
He freezes. Porco’s blood goes cold and his muscles as rigid as his nerves. Heart pounding, he whips around and storms back over to her. “Don’t.”
“Porco—”
“No! Fuck that!” he snaps. Porco towers over her, casting her in shadow, and smashes his fists on the counter behind her, caging her in. Pieck doesn’t startle or even flinch, but her eyes widen. Her vivid charcoal eyes that swim with the emotions neither of them dares speak aloud. His arms tremble, and Porco swallows the lump in his throat. “Just don’t,” he hisses, voice low.
Her throat bobs, but she doesn’t back down. Doesn’t release him from the prison her gaze has trapped him in. His pulse rushes in his ears as flickers of those same grey eyes dance in his vision. Warm and littered with sparks of silent joy—and love.
Fragments of memories that never should have been his.
Pieck reaches up. She curls a hand into his jacket. “Porco …”
“Stop.”
“Please.”
“We can’t!” He tries to pull back, but she tightens her grip.
“That never stopped you and Reiner.”
“Yeah, and it ruined everything.”
The music throbbing out of the club’s speakers dulls in the face of their heavy breathing. As does Pieck’s gaze. Grey pools still like a frost-kissed lake, and her lids grow lazy. She releases his jacket and turns away.
Porco smooths the crinkled leather against his chest and vanishes into the crowd before she’s taken a sip of her beer. His gut curls, but he pushes forward. Keeps walking until he’s broken through the dance floor. He spots a blonde and redhead at a nearby table and swaggers over, head held high.
What are their names? Are they even single? Doesn’t matter. Not as long as they’re game to disappear into the bathroom with him.
As they stroll toward the restrooms, Porco’s arms thrown over both their shoulders, he glances back. Pieck’s cold gaze meets his, and Porco whips his head back around, heart in his throat. Maybe, one day, she’ll understand. That he’s protecting them both by keeping that door closed between them …
His mind goes blank as the redhead pushes him against the bathroom stall and drops to her knees. It’s not until he’s painted her throat and panting, one fist locked around blonde strands, the other deep in a sea of red, that he allows himself to hope. Just a little.
That maybe, one day, when war has finally been expelled from their lands and people, he won’t have to rely on Marcel’s memories anymore to see Pieck happy.