Thirteen Years | P. Galliard

4

** Very sorry for such a late update, life has been pretty crazy. I should be getting on a better schedule updating every week, but I will try my best with the time I have. Thank you all for understanding!

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His hand held yours tightly, thinking to himself if he let go in the slightest you would slip away. Although the sickly feeling was long gone, his thoughts still rattled in his mind. He was conflicted. He made the promise, the words passing his lips easily, but he wanted to know the importance. Why convey your worries now, when it was far too late; he had inherited the Jaw and there was no looking back. A part of him wished he knew your thoughts, to better understand. If only he knew what you were thinking, maybe it would help him figure out the feelings he kept tucked away in his mind.

The two words the young man spoke were all you needed to hear to put you at ease. You knew it wasn't that simple though, if only. You knew there was death around every corner in his field, but his promise still held firm within you. You squeezed his hand gently again, the numbness in your fingers from the cold slowly drifted away from his own warmth. Although cold, you felt content. There was a comfort you felt when with him, a comfort you missed for the two months of him being away. Your gaze returned to the sky with a silent sigh escaping your lips, "please be safe, Porco. I'm only given thirteen more years with you, don't make it less." You breathed. 

Hearing his name again made him lose his words, and the rest of your statement left him speechless. He was astounded by how much you cared, he was taken back with himself for finally realizing this truth. It made sense to him; when he came back you looked sleepless and tired, dark circles under your eyes, and your neat, put together aesthetic thrown off - you were worried. His fingers held your own tighter, his gaze unfaltering from you although yours already held the stars. "I wouldn't dare make it less, so please, stop worrying over me."

"Easier said than done," you stated. "I feel like that's all I ever do these days. You'd be surprised how much you stay on my mind," you admitted softly, the cold air making your breath hang in the sky before dispersing. Porco saw your eyes flutter closed, as if to rearrange the thoughts you held in your head to later speak. But no words came, you simply laid on the roof with your eyes closed and your mouth shut. Your statement rang in his head during the silence and he averted his gaze from you. The sickly feeling returned then. Short of breath, suddenly hot, and although no nausea plagued him he felt as if he needed to vomit.  

The hand that held yours was slowly becoming slicked with sweat as he stared at the sky. He feared you would notice, but you didn't utter a word. His mind raced for a prognosis to the sudden feeling, but every answer only ended with the words of Marcel years ago: "you've got it bad."

Marcel watched the blonde brother pace back and forth in the quaint room they shared. The brunette held his cheek with his hand, his elbows resting against his knees as he sat on his bed. "Stop pacing, I feel like I'm watching a volleyball game," he quipped. Porco abruptly stopped and shot him a glare before letting out a sigh and taking a seat next to the eldest. "Anything you want to talk about, Pock?" Marcel asked, half out of curiosity and half out of pity seeing the boy pace so long. 

There was a long pause between the brothers; Porco held his head down in thought and Marcel kept his eyes on him. "(Y/n)." Porco replied with a sigh, the name coming out of his mouth felt like a relief. It was hard for Porco to keep anything from his brother and it was easy for Marcel to tell if something was troubling him. 

"(Y/n)?" The eldest asked, the youngest nodding. "What about them?" 

"It's hard to explain," Porco ran his hands through his now messy blonde hair and looked over at his brother. "Whenever I talk to them I feel. . . sick. Every time they come around I get nervous and hot and I jumble up my words. I feel like an idiot and I don't know what the hell I'm feeling but- I can't help but like it."