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**Important: It has been a year since my last update and for that I'm sorry. But I truly needed this break for my mental health and well being. But that being said, I am very happy to announce that I am officially one semester away from graduating college! I hope everyone can understand and thank you so much for the support I'm still receiving for this story.

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You won't marry a dead man. The words turning over and twisting in your mind as you sat in the cold. No matter how many times repeated, your mind couldn't wrap itself around the thought. The idea of marrying Porco seeming like an enigma - the impossible idea of love you longed for and suddenly receiving it seemed puzzling. Though, it excited you. The mere thought of being on the receiving end of his affection awoke a warm feeling inside. One you desired for so long.

You were pulled from your thoughts by a front door opening and closing, a slew of swearing following shortly after. You perched yourself on the Galliard's roof earlier, the cold only bothering you for a few minutes, per the arrangement Porco suggested the latter day. You wrapped yourself in his jacket as well as a blanket, the cool weather forcing you to bundle up. Hearing him step up each rung of the ladder gave you a foreign excitement, an excitement to see him that you never felt before.

Grey eyes soon met with your own as his head finally became visible over the edge of the building; however, he quickly averted them as he stepped onto the roof. The excitement you felt quickly shifted to a thick layer of tension and awkwardness. What was there to say? How do two people talk to each other after the day they just experienced? "You showed up?" You heard him ask rhetorically, although adoration swept him up as the wind blew past in the night.

The cuts and bruises from his previous altercation were now long gone; only a few hours had past, but with no scars it felt so much as a memory rather than present. The young man dawned a thick, gray sweater; however, he still brought along a blanket - still warm from being folding and placed next the fireplace in his home. The warmth of the blanket against his skin, and now in the current situation, burned. He felt if he held it a moment longer, he'd melt. Cheeks hot and flustered from the long awaited conversation he itched to have, though it made him nauseous to think about.

His boots clicked against the roof until he stopped just before you, lowering to sit next to you in the thick silence. "I, uh-" he began but stumbled over his words, biting his tongue at what he wished to say. "I'm glad you came," he said softly.

Looking over at him, you smiled softly. You could tell his thoughts were eating away at him, and just how badly he wanted to express himself. However, you knew the man wouldn't simply tell you; he kept everything bottled up inside and hidden away. His heart and soul seemed trapped in their own respective cages, clawing and gnashing to be released but never earning the chance. "Porco," you began, "you don't have to be scared to talk to me." Your smile faltered as his eyes connected with yours, almost seeing the gears turning within his mind. "A lot has happened today and-" however your sentence was cut short by the man next to you.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. He felt as if he were taking a sledgehammer to the walls he'd built for years and years, only it felt relieving for it to happen with you. "I'm so fucking sorry for everything. For the way I acted, for making you break up a fight, for making you cry, for putting you through all this shit, for leaving you alone, for not checking up on you as often as I should, and for not realizing you are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me."

He took a deep breath as he looked over at you and continued. "I thought about you every single day while I was training, even while I got the living shit kicked out of me. That whole time I never knew why, I didn't even realize just how stupid I am until last night. Because, (F/n)(L/n), I am so god damn in love with you it scares me." His eyes were glassy and his breathing uneven, he stopped speaking even though he had so much left to say. "I love you" was enough at the moment, that was all he needed so the crippling feeling of guilt and anxiety would finally pass.

Thirteen Years | P. GalliardWhere stories live. Discover now