Thirteen Years | P. Galliard

19

** Trigger Warning: blood, death, very graphic descriptions, mentions of war, ptsd, disassociation, very very dark scenarios/scenes/and imagery.

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Porco felt as if he might spill his guts then and there, holding you so tightly he even feared he would crush you. Your sobs racked your body, trembling against him as he held you closely. His own body ached, feeling his wrist finally pop back into place he grunted against you. It was a long fall in the depths of the trap he and his comrade were placed in, shattering and dislocating bones on impact.

He felt the tremors from other Titans shake the room while he occupied the small space. Knowing he couldn't do a single thing about it made anger bubble up inside him. Upon getting out, per the Eldians who Pieck worked with, his anger bubbled over. Not taking in the full scene in front of him, just grabbing at your arm and yanking. You didn't answer him while he was down there, didn't answer when a shot rang out, and surely didn't answer when all went silent - it terrified him. As much love and care he had for you seemed a forethought as his anger took control, washing away instantly once the barrel of a gun was pointed in his face.

Only then did he drink in the scene and assess what had happened, and ultimately feeling a dread take his angers place. Seeing you disheveled, bloody, and your mind cracked was something he didn't know was his worst fear. The gun in his face shook with what he only imagined was fear and anger, and he watched as the blood coated butt of the rifle soaked into the clothing of your shoulder.

He didn't say a word when you asked him a question, he didn't even hear it as he was too focused on your appearance. How did it come to this? He had questions rattling off in his mind so quickly it was dizzying. He surely didn't notice when Pieck answered for him, only noticing when you dropped your gun. Taking in a breath, all he could think was to hold you, and so he did.

"It's alright," he shushed, swallowing hard as reality slammed into him. "Don't apologize." He knew his words only fell to the others around him and not his intended audience: you. Too distraught to even think straight, and too far gone to even imagine thinking clearly. He took in a deep breath as minutes passed, finally finding the courage to pull away and look at you. "Look at me, (Y/n)," he asked, hoping you would come down.

Tears felt like they had ran out, as you cried so much you felt dehydrated - you had no more left to shed. Watery eyes looked into his own, seeing an empty void rather than his own filled with emotion. The only inkling of care was that he still held your arms tightly once he had pulled away, realizing you were now looking into the eyes of a machine rather than your lover. A war machine who was trained to throw his emotions to the wind when the time called, to throw everything he loved out the window when called like a mutt. He couldn't help his lacking, but his mind had a cavern of things he locked away when he had to do the unthinkable. It was a way to save himself.

"I know you want nothing more than to stay with me right now, but you can't, dear." His voice felt hurried, but you noticed he desperately tried to fight it. "I have to go, and I need you to get as far away from the area as you can."

Blinking away your tears, you stared at him a moment. He wanted you to leave him. "No way in hell I'm doing that," you blurted out. Your mind was scrambled, but as thoughts came back together piece by piece you tried to think rationally. You tried desperately. "I'm going with you."

"(Y/n), that's idiotic, and you know it," he groaned, squeezing your arms tighter as he looked at you. "You're not going anywhere near where I'm going," he commanded. "Swear it to me." The woman who earlier occupied the same room, had gone off to speak with her comrades, unfortunately coming back to a screaming match she didn't anticipate. Porco determined to do his duty, all the while trying to keep you safe; and you stupidly defying him.