oh god i'm responsible for myself

It’s definitely a curse and a blessing to know your ex so well that even after nearly a year from breaking up, you can still predict his every move. You made the mistake of underestimating him once and the asshole appeared next to you at your favourite festival like a fucking nightmare come to life.

You know that one year later you shouldn’t be thinking about him, shouldn’t be making contingency plans just to be prepared for the possibility of seeing him yet again. But you said that last time and were left with a pathetic excuse of a manchild sobbing in your arms that he misses you and loves you, even though he had a girlfriend at home. Even though you’ve broken up with him a few months prior after years of manipulation and disrespect and cheating.

You are over him, you truly are. What you are still dealing with is the aftermath – the trauma responses and the inability to hold a relationship for more than a few weeks just because you immediately see the red flags from a mile away.

And maybe you’re just a tiny bit petty. Just a sliver of petty, because how is it fair that one year later, he’s “happily in love” with someone else and you are still trying to patch yourself back together? And maybe you feel like you should have your revenge one way or another. You’re not a vengeful person, you don’t even like conflict, but for fuck’s sake, wouldn’t it be nice, wouldn’t it be just dandy to give him just a little bit of his own medicine?

“I have an idea.” You say, gears turning in your head, that Grinch grin taking over all of your features.

Sasha looks worried for a second, but this girl is just as petty as you are, if not even more, so it soon turns into a mirrored grin. She’ll enable all of your bullshit, just so she can revel in the hilarity of it all. Mikasa would both kill you if she were here, but fortunately she is not, and you can both make stupid plans while wine drunk at 12 am on a Friday night.

“I already love and hate this.”

“No, no, listen here. It’s the perfect plan. Are you listening?” You giggle and boop her nose, making her nearly fall back on the floor.

“I’m all ears, baby. Hit me!”

“So we go to the festival, right.” You start, counting the steps on your fingers and Sasha nods. There’s no need to explain the first step – your group of friends hasn’t missed any winter or summer edition of this festival for the past three years. “We bump into He Who Shall Not Be Named. I am fake dating someone who thinks I hung the moon. Bam! It pisses Darth Vader off so badly he finally leaves me alone.”

You’re still grinning, glee written all over your face (it might just be the wine though). However, Sasha looks confused (it might just be the wine though). She pours more wine in your glasses, trying to process the plan you came up with. Truthfully, she was expecting something more…sparkly, chaotic, dumb. You have the potential to ensue chaos and this is what you come up with? You can feel the disappointment radiating off of her, but you let her stew in the idea for a couple of minutes – she’ll come around (or maybe you’re just too drunk to see the idiocy of it all).

“Ok, ok,” Sasha starts, musing out loud. “But why do you have to fake date someone?”

“Sash, we both know I can’t even hold down a friend with benefits because I’m too fucking picky.”

“You’re not picky, Y/N. You finally have standards.”

“Potayto, potahto.” You roll your eyes. “Even if I were to start date dating someone, it would be too late at this point. The festival is in nearly three months. No one will fall in love with me so badly in such a short period of time he’ll look like he’ll pop down on one knee right then and there.”

“So you’re telling me you want to fake date someone just for that one evening in the entirely hypothetical possibility that your narcissistic ex will stalk you again and you want him to see you be in this amazing, lovely, healthy relationship with someone that is nothing like him and actually respects you and adores you the way that you deserve just so you can show that dickhead what he was supposed to be doing in the first place? And that he finally gets it through his thick skull that you will never ever get back with him, because there’s now someone who loves you so much more, he’s like a puppy in your presence? Because there’s nothing that pisses that asshole off more than someone who is better than him at something he thinks he’s the best at?”

You clap your hands in excitement and giggle at Sasha, who was so absorbed in her train of thought tirade, her own expression turns from confusion to absolute glee, as she grasped the concept.

“Exactly!”

“This is so fucked up.” Sasha whispers, but then that shit eating grin is back on her face. “Do it.”

*

Finding someone in less than three months who’d be willing to go along with your stupid plan seems more impossible than being able to afford an apartment. Even with the help of all of your friends, you’ve nearly given up on the whole thing.

Mikasa was, of course, disappointed in your immaturity and vowed never to let you and Sasha drink by yourselves ever again, so evidently she refused to initially take part in any of it, before she came around and started looking through her friends and family list. Since you’ve known her for nearly 20 years and so all of her friends were also yours and her family practically adopted you, you both knew it would be a futile attempt. Eren and Annie were impressed by the ingenuity, but they simply removed themselves from the whole thing by declaring that “you’re dumb, it’s a stupid idea, leave me out of it. Good luck though!”. Armin even suggested one board game night that he’ll play the part if you’d like, but they all turned to him in various states of amusement and confusion.

“Armin, sweetheart, I appreciate it, but even if no one knew you’re married to Annie, everyone would figure out how whipped you are the moment you look at her.” You finally quipped after laughing hysterically for five minutes straight.

Connie, however, proved to be the most useful. He wriggled his way into your plan like the mastermind he is and proposed installing Tinder as a last resort.

“Con, babe, she had Tinder. She only met creeps on there.” Sasha chides her boyfriend with a shake of her head.

“Yeah, but that time she was actively trying to find a boyfriend.” Connie point out. “You know, trying to persuade someone to actually like her for her, which she obviously failed – ”

“Hey!” You shout from the kitchen, half listening in on the conversation as you’re cooking dinner.

“Because it’s Tinder!” He shouts back, annoyed with the interruption. “This time around, she’ll make it clear in her bio that she’s only there for this reason only and maybe she’ll eventually find someone. You know, because guys are dumb and need to be explained stuff like they are five.”

“I don’t know…” You huff, concentrated on not cutting your fingers.

You are one step away from calling the whole charade quits – the festival will take place in less than two months now and it’s obvious by now that all of your friends and their friends are either in relationships or married. At this point, you might just admit defeat and plan to just get drunk and ignore everyone there besides your friends. Maybe even your friends. There, direct your pettiness to the people who actually love and care about you.

“No, listen, it actually makes sense.” Sasha says as they both make their way into the kitchen to set up the table. “This way, the commitment-phobes won’t be afraid to interact with you because you don’t want a relationship out of them. And the creeps will just leave you alone because you’re making it clear you won’t be a one-night stand.”

“What if there’s a good guy there?!”

“Y/N,” Connie raises an eyebrow. “It’s Tinder. There are only idiots and creeps on there.”

*

Porco Galliard is everything you hate. He’s mean and annoying and condescending and passive aggressive. He likes to pick on you and make fun of you and doesn’t know how to talk to you without calling you a “clown”, a “dumbass” or “a big fucking baby”. Porco Galliard is also the perfect fake boyfriend you could’ve asked for. Not only is he so fucking attractive it makes you scream (you literally screamed in your pillow for ten minutes straight after you got home that first time you met), he’s even pettier than you are. He was so on board with the idea that he messaged you five seconds after matching with you on Tinder.

How about you find an engagement ring as well and we pretend I just proposed to you?

Motherfucker will be so pissed you said yes to someone else and not him

You appreciated the fact that he didn’t judge you like others did, or told you you’re pathetic and you should just get over your ex and get on with your life. Porco understood that you were over him as a person, you just weren’t over all the hurt he’s put you through. He understood that you just wanted the sweet taste of revenge, just for closure – or maybe just for the sick sake of it. It didn’t matter to him, he thought it’d be funny and that was enough for him.

Porco has become a fixture in your life so quickly, it felt like being hit by a tornado. One day you’re mindlessly swiping Tinder bored out of your mind on your lunch break, and the next you’re texting him constantly. In less than two months, he’s become the first person you talk to in the morning and the last to say good night to.

As irritating and annoying as he is, he’s funny and silly and a whole ass idiot. He calls you out on your bullshit without batting an eye and he’s given you advice and support when you were at your wits’ end because of your job. One moment he’d tell you “God wanted to spice the earth with jokes so he made you” and then the next he’d get worked up over you agreeing with him when you’re feeling especially self-deprecating. He also has superb taste in music, which is great, because you now have ten new playlists that you can choose from depending on your mood. It doesn’t hurt that he’s also so fucking smart, it blows you away every single day.

Porco Galliard is a menace to your life, but you’re so used to him by now that you had no qualms in introducing him to your friends. Mind you, your friends who’ve only ever met your dickhead of an ex, but never anyone else. And yet, you didn’t even have to think about it with Porco. You just shot him a text one evening that you’re cooking for your friends and you’re already tired of the “marital disagreements taking place in your whorehouse” and if he could “please, for the love of Christ, save me from this personal hell”.

He showed up 20 minutes later, two bottles of tequila in his hands and a shit eating grin on his face, without even bothering to reply to your texts.

“Heard you called for your knight in shining armour, dipshit.” He says, kissing your forehead and making his way around you and towards your living room.

Now, all of your friends know of Porco. Connie and Eren even talked to him one time when they came over to fix your new bookshelves and he decided to FaceTime you out of the blue, but none of them actually met him. Which was not surprising in the least. What surprised them is that Porco Galliard is all of a sudden in your living room, acting as if he’s more than familiar with the place and saying hi to everyone. What is truly shocking, is that you don’t look the least fazed about the whole thing – they know your aversion towards them meeting your boyfriends/crushes/male interests, and yet, this time, you act as if Porco has been here the whole time.

“Y/N?” Armin asks, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You shrug, turning back from your way to the kitchen. “This fuckface is Porco. Porco, you introduce yourself to everyone like you don’t have only two braincells left in your head.”

“Y/N!” Mikasa shouts, outraged.

Porco, however, just rolls his eyes. “Every day you say something stupid and I can feel my will to live slipping.”

“I am not going to entertain that empty brain of yours. Make nice!”

“Y/N!” Mikasa shouts again.

Sasha and Connie are giggling, Eren is straight out laughing. While they might all be wary of this new character in their life, they can’t help but admit it’s quite entertaining to see your snide comments directed at someone else. Not to mention, that it’s refreshing to see Porco holding his own, and even beating you at your own game. Most people would just think you’re rude and disrespectful, others would believe you a straight up asshole. You’re an acquired taste that not everyone tolerates. Porco, however, seems to revel in every single one of your insults, like he’s waiting for them.

“I’m honestly thinking of selling you on eBay.”

*

“You have a crush on him.” Mikasa deadpans the night before the big day.

Y/N was just explaining her plan for the last time to her best friend on the phone, while Porco was at the gym (“gotta look pumped and ready for you, baby”). You needed a distraction, since you’ve been having jitters for the past couple of days. You didn’t understand why exactly, it’s not like you didn’t anticipate for the moment of seeing your ex again for the past months, and it definitely wasn’t the excitement for the festival. That’s just a subdued buzz in your head, but there are butterflies and it makes you feel giddy and happy and –

“I do not.” You scoff. “He’s mean to me and we both agreed this is just a one time thing. We might stay friends after this, but I know he’s not interested in me in that way in the least.”

“Okay, do you want me to put on my psychologist’s glasses? Should we unpack that entire bullshit that just came out of your mouth?”

You can practically hear the way she rolls her eyes. It’s disgusting. Sometimes you wish she didn’t know you this well. But you let her talk, nonetheless, because this is why you called her after all. To help you bring some clarity to your jumbled thoughts.

“He’s not mean to you, he’s abrasive in general. That’s just his personality. We’ve met him and truthfully, you’re the only one out of us he was the most aggressive towards. I’m putting that one on the fact that he doesn’t know how to cope with the attraction he feels towards you. His first intentions were most probably aligned to the rules you set, that is fake date for one evening, no strings attached – which was a stupid idea in the first place, if I may reiterate. I’d say, based on the way he’s acting around you and the way he’s changed his way of interacting with you lately, he’s feeling insecure and doesn’t want to show it. Plus, I’m betting he hasn’t realised it yet, either.”

There’s silence on both ends of the phone for a long period of time, to the point where Mikasa has to check whether you hung up. You, however, are chewing on your bottom lip, eyes glazed over. Mikasa couldn’t possibly be right. You refuse to let yourself be sucked into the fantasy of Porco actually liking you. You’ve made that mistake before, and you don’t want to get hurt again.

Mikasa might have made a great psychologist, but she’s a lawyer. There’s no way she knows what she’s talking about, right? There’s no way Porco seemed so happy to see you yesterday when he came to pick you up from work because he likes you, right? There’s no way Porco ordered food for you when you couldn’t meet up because he likes you, right? There’s no way he calls you a dumbass with a smile on his face whenever your ADHD kicks in because he likes you, right? Mikasa doesn’t know all the sweet stuff he does for you, she’s only talking from the point of view where he’s being mean. So if she knew how sweet he can be to you, her whole hypothesis would crumble, right?

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” You mutter, waking up from your trance.

“I’m not saying I’m right, though.” She tentatively offers, knowing she has to tread lightly now. “I’m just saying that he might like you. I don’t want to give you false hope, because I know how you can throw yourself headfirst into a crush. I think it would be better if you’d just openly discuss it with him. You’re both adults, you can handle that.”

“I can’t talk to him about this now, Mika! How am I supposed to pretend I’m head over heels for him if he rejects me tonight?”

“Not tonight, but you should do it after this whole charade is up. I also don’t think either of you will be pretending.”

*

Pock

No

I just said your name!

That’s not my name

That’s the only stupid ass nickname your bird brain could come up with

I’m blocking you

Then who’s going to kiss you and hold you and be all mushy and shit with you all night if you do that, babe?

Ew never call me that ever again, that is disgustin

What? Babe? You don’t like me calling you babe?

What am I supposed to call you tonight then?

I can’t just call you dipshit

Bonehead

Dingbag

You can just call me by my name?

Cue lil nas x

But no, we’re gonna make this believable

How are we going to make it believable if I call you by your name?

Don’t all couples have those disgusting nicknames for each other

What did your ex call you

Babe

Oh

Ok

How about something French

Why would

No

You’re gonna call me something like baguette or fromage or some shit like that

Grenouille

You’re not calling me frog!!!!!

But you’re like a frog

A cute frog

Small and stupid

I hate you

Do you really

I specifically remember you drunk last Friday and asking me to talk in French for like half an hour

It’s not like you don’t speak French either!

Yeah, but you have the accent

I’m half French dumbass

Exactly

It’s hot

So you think I’m hot?

Oh shit! Look at the time! I have to walk my refrigerator!

You’re a fucking clown you know that

But fr you should go get ready tho

I’ll pick you up in an hour

Au revoir, ma petite grenouille

I must resist the urge to kill you

Or fuck me

I’d pick the latter

*

You climb into Porco’s car, careful not to slam the door too hard – last time you did, Porco took you on the highway and drove so much past the speed limit you punched him for five minutes straight afterwards. He didn’t even react to your punches, he just stood there, rolling his eyes. You, however, swore to never hurt his precious car again, or you’re sure he’s going to hurt you.

“You look like a whore.” You deadpan when your eyes land on him.

He’s wearing his dark jeans and most probably those black sneakers he was so excited about buying last week. His hair is slicked back as always, his undercut freshly trimmed, but his biceps are in front view and you can even see his goddamned ribs because he’s wearing a white fucking muscle tank top. You hate him. You truly, genuinely, from the bottom of your heart hate him in this moment, because how the fuck is your brain supposed to be ready to bring your ex to the ground when you see this? When this dipshit will be standing next to you and all you will think about is muscles and skin and veins and a peek of that stupid tattoo on his ribcage?

“Are you slutshaming me, you dweeb?” He laughs, eyes never leaving the road.

You’re definitely not paying more attention to the way his forearms look extended towards the wheel than to what new word he’s using to insult you. Nope.

“No, I just thought I’ll be the only one who’s dressed inappropriately.”

“Y/N, we’re going to a festival in July when it’s hot as Satan’s asscrack. Plus you can always wear whatever you want.”

“Pock, you do realise I’m a woman and that last statement makes zero sense to me, right?”

“Don’t worry, darling.” He smirks. “I know how to fight. Actually, let them even dare look in your direction for too long. I was wating for a reason to punch someone.”

“You can’t just punch someone because they’re looking at me, Galliard!” You yell.

“I can if it makes you uncomfortable. Plus, you’re mine so they should know their place.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. That sentence shouldn’t make your butterflies swirl in the pit of your stomach. It shouldn’t bring forth images of Porco kissing you and holding your hand and playing with your hair and him hovering over you as he’s thrusting – nOPE.

“You mean in this made-up scenario, right?” You say, trying to remind yourself that this is fake. This is all fake.

“Yeah.” He mutters. You’re not sure whether he’s squinting his eyes in concentration or something else. “You’re mine in this made-up scenario, sweetheart.”

*

The night is uneventful in the sense that you’ve somehow managed not to bump into anyone you’d like to vomit on. You don’t know whether he just isn’t there tonight or he simply hasn’t had the chance to find you. In all honesty, you have been dancing far away from the bars for a reason and you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t venture directly into the thickest parts of the crowds. Maybe he’s simply not seeking you out.

You, however, are having the time of your life. It’s not only because you’re slightly drunk, Porco having made sure to switch you on water whenever he saw you’d start derailing into a hot mess. But you’re surrounded by the people you love, laughing and screaming with them on music you all grew up on. Simply put, you’re enjoying yourself and you’ve started to forget your stupid plan. It’s easy to do so when Porco puts his hands on your waist or on your hips to dance with you, or when he kisses your forehead in passing, or when he’d hug you with no apparent reason. At first, you thought he’s initiating contact because he might see someone making their way towards you and you’d instantly tense under his touch. You’d prepare for the worst, ready to play a charade in front of someone you realise you don’t actually want to see after all. But after a few hours, you’ve started to relax and welcome every lingering hand on your body or his lips on your skin.

It's nearing midnight and you decide to take a break at one of the tables set in front of the food trucks. A small part of your brain is telling you to be on high alert, since you’re in the open now, but it’s easy to dismiss it when Sasha comes back with three hot dogs and two sides of fries. Connie and Armin are close behind her with more food in tow and you realise just how hungry all the dancing and alcohol have made you.

“Where’s Pock?” You ask Annie when she makes her own appearance with a few bottles of beer in her hands.

“He was right behind me. Maybe he went to take a piss.” She shrugs.

You look around the huge field, but since it’s filled with people and strobing lights and music drowns out everything, it’s hard to distinguish anyone. You shake your head – you’re being crazy, maybe he did just go to the bathroom. You told him where you’re going when you split up from the dance area, he’ll find his way back to you.

But then fifteen minutes pass and you’ve finished a burger and a whole bottle of beer and he’s still nowhere to be seen. What if he found some chick who he hit it off with and decided to ditch this whole idiocy?

“Hey!” Eren shouts over the music, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Relax. Just send him a text, maybe he got lost.”

You nod. Your overthinking habit will be the end of you someday. Eren is right. There’s an easy way out of your spiralling thoughts and you haven’t even considered it.

Wya galliard

His reply comes a few seconds later. You exhale in relief, you really were being crazy.

Awwww did you miss me, baby?

Fuck that. He can go fuck himself. You’re about to go look for your friends who’ve disappeared back into the dancing mass when your phone vibrates in your hand again.

Look behind you, you dumbass

You turn around, only to be faced with a huge ass chest. He’s towering over you, a grin plastered all over his face. He looks so smug, so cocky, so full of his damn self you want to punch him. Or kiss him. Whatever would wipe that smirk off.

You open your mouth to demand answers and his exact location for the past fifteen minutes, as if you definitely aren’t drunk off your ass right now and most obviously aren’t being crazy and dramatic. Truth be told, you did miss him. It was weird not having him around, even if it was for such a short period of time. But before you can say anything, he takes a flower crown from where he was hiding it behind his back, and gingerly places it on your head.

“I thought you left.” You mumble, bunching his top in your fists. At this point, you don’t really care whether he’ll be mad about it. You can just blame it on the alcohol.

“I’m sorry.” He chuckles and covers your hands with his. “I realise now you had too much time to think and that small brain of yours can’t yet comprehend words like an adult.”

“Fuck you, Galliard.”

“Not until you get it into that thick skull of yours that I won’t be leaving you.”

He pushes a finger into your forehead, but you’re more confused by his words, than anything else. And then suddenly, his whole demeanour changes. He snakes his hands around your waist and places his head close to yours. It might look like he’s kissing your neck, but you can feel how tense he feels around you.

“Your ex is Floch fucking Forster?”

“Yeah.”

He prods you to place your arms around his shoulders, and you do it slowly. You’re confused as to what could have brought this about. You’re not surprised he found out your ex’s name – maybe Eren and Connie were shit talking him again and let the name slip. It’s not like his name is a state secret, you just hate saying it. But you don’t understand why he seems on edge all of a sudden, holding you a bit too tightly, his frown even deeper, his scowl even more disgusted.

“Wait, you know him?” You say, when the only possible explanation finally clicks into your alcohol addled mind.

“Yeah, I fucking know him. You should’ve told me it’s him!”

“I told you what he looks like! How was I supposed to know you know him?”

“Do you know how little ‘creepy smile and a fucking scumbag’ narrows it down for me, honey?” He sneers. “I used to play professional rugby, that was like half of my team.”

You lean back, forcing him to let go of you. You can’t breathe from how hard he’s squeezing you to his chest. But he keeps his hands firmly planted on your waist, far enough to give you some semblance of space, but close enough so you can still smell the beer on his breath. Porco is angry, but apparently not at you. He’s looking at something behind you, and sure, he has a fucking resting bitch face, but it’s nothing compared to thisscowl.

You’re about to turn around, already having an inkling of what might have happened, when he pulls you back into him. Porco rests his forehead on yours, bringing one of his large hands to the back of your head, keeping you in place. You’re so close at the moment, you feel like you could mould into one person.

“I swear to fuck, I’m going to kill this motherfucker.” He kisses your cheek and you can feel his maniacal grin on your skin. What the fuck is going on. “You trust me, yes?”

“Yeah?” You reply, unsure at the moment whether you should be scared or excited by this whole new Porco.

“Good. Because it’s gametime, baby.”

He slowly releases you from his grip, and you can read the encouragement in his golden eyes. He curtly nods, enough just for you to notice. You take a deep breath in, already feeling your resolve slipping, but then he’s taking your hand in his, interlacing your fingers together and you feel like you could look the devil in the eye and spit in his face. Which you’re just about to do, really.

“Y/N?”

His voice sounds so familiar and yet so strange. Funny how time can alter someone in ways that you both recognise and completely forget someone you’ve spent years with. He’s still his lean self, yet bigger and smaller at the same time – like he’s put on even more muscles, but looks weaker, more diminished. Or maybe he’s not holding the power over you anymore. His hair is longer and he’s lost some of that baby fat, but he’s wearing that shirt you bought him for his 23rd birthday. He might seem surprised to see you – and yet you know how he’s calculating all the possible outcomes of this interaction at the speed of light in his mind right now.

And then his eyes land on Porco. Porco, whose arm is around your waist now, Porco who has just kissed your temple and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, Porco who hands you his beer bottle, as if sharing drinks is the most normal thing to do, Porco who pulls you even closer to him when Floch takes a step toward you.

You watch the way Floch assesses the whole situation – see his eyes land from your flower crown, to Porco’s arm, to your own in the back pocket of his jeans. You see the way his façade cracks for just a second, the way his anger slips to the surface. And you have to remind yourself that even though that anger might be directed at you, he can’t do anything to you anymore. You have Porco, and most importantly, you’re not his puppet anymore – you can stand up for yourself now.

“Galliard.” Floch says instead of all the insults you were expecting. “What are you doing here?”

“What, Forster?” Porco laughs nonchalantly. “Am I not allowed to enjoy the festival with my girlfriend?”

And there – the bomb has dropped. And it’s the first time in your life you see Floch speechless. You see the way his mind shuts down at the complete impossibility of this situation, even though the show you were putting on should’ve been enough. As if he needed Porco’s verbal confirmation to process what he’s seeing.

“Your girlfriend?” The man scoffs, having regained his ability to spit bullshit in no time. Gotta give it to him, he sure believes he’s the only one in this world whose truth matters. “Y/N, what is this guy saying?”

“I don’t exactly understand what you’re asking, Floch.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Come on, Y/N, you can’t seriously tell me you’re dating Galliard.”

Floch laughs and the sound grates on your brain. You’re not sure whether you’re getting worked up over seeing him and having all the memories resurface or the fact that he doesn’t believe someone would actually want to date you. Maybe it’s both. Or maybe it’s the way he says Porco’s name that rubs you the wrong way. You figured that there’s some kind of beef between them, but like hell will you let him disrespect Porco.

“Oh, so you’ve lost the ability to understand English?” Porco interjects, before you have the chance to even open your mouth. He can feel the way you’re vibrating with tension right now, and he’s not sure whether he’ll let you claw Forster’s eyes out while he’s cheering you on or punch him to a pulp himself.

“Pock.” You say, placing a hand on his chest.

Floch has taken yet another step forward just as Porco did, but you’re not about to be witness to a blood bath. At least not in the literal sense, if you can help it. Porco, thankfully, looks down at you and simply clenches his jaw. You wanted this fight, he’ll let you have it.

“Yes, Floch, I am dating Porco.” You say, turning your cold gaze towards your ex. “I have been happy in this relationship for nearly six months and he hasn’t been anything but kind, loving and respectful towards me. He’s my best friend and I honestly can say I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Now if you could please leave us alone, I’d like to get back to dancing.”

You can feel Porco’s stare on you, but you do your best to keep your expression even. You haven’t discussed any of the possible things you might say to Floch when you’d see him, simply because you didn’t know what you’ll say in the moment. Maybe it shouldn’t have been anything along the lines of ‘for the rest of your life’ though. However, you don’t want to let any uncertainty show, any insecurity you might have on how this whole shitshow will play out after Floch leaves, any fear that you’ll never get to see Porco ever again after tonight.

Floch, on the other hand, does nothing more than to roll his eyes. You know what he’s thinking: he still believes you’ll never find anyone better than him. Still believes you’ve broken up with the only person in the world who would give you the time of day. As if you should’ve been grateful beyond belief that such an amazing human being deigned to look down upon you.

“Spare me the crap, Y/N. We all know he’s probably just fucking you because he’s bored. You always romanticise every little shit in your life.”

“Listen here, you waste of human space.” Porco bites, ignoring the way you’re tugging at his shirt. He’s had enough and no matter how much he’d want to let you win this, he can’t help but to speak his own mind. “The fact that you couldn’t see what a brilliant person Y/N is and you’re now bitter and mad she broke up with you is your own fucking problem. I’m not fucking her because I’m bored, we are fucking because we love each other. Last time I heard, you were fucking Yelena at graduation when you apparently had a sweet and loving girlfriend waiting for you at home, so you spare me the condescending tone.”

“I didn’t fuck her at graduation, you asshole. My parents were there!” Floch spits as he’s approaching Porco. They’re now one punch away from each other, which only makes Porco step in front of you.

“Oh right, I’m sorry. I must have her confused with all the girls you’ve fucked at every single party you’ve attended for three years in college.” Porco sneers, nostrils flaring.

“ENOUGH!” You scream, all the pent-up rage pouring out of you in waves. A few party goers turn towards you in confusion, but they simply disappear in another direction, too afraid to be part of what looks like a fight in the making. Porco and Floch look down at you, as if surprised you’re still here. You don’t care. You truly, honestly, genuinely do not give a shit about anyone in this moment.

“Enough!” You sneer again. “I do not give one single fuck who you’ve fucked or haven’t fucked when we were together, Floch. All I can say, from the bottom of my heart, is that I regret ever loving you. I don’t regret meeting you, I regret ever loving you. You disgust me. You’ve manipulated me into being the perfect little girlfriend for you by chipping away at my personality every single day. Every single day. Slowly and diligently. You’ve belittled me every step of the way and disrespected me as if I were a shit stain on the sole of your shoe. You thoroughly and completely disgust me and I wish I will never have to set my eyes upon you for the rest of my life. I would wish you a happy life, but that would be a fucking lie. I hope you get to suffer at least an ounce of what you’ve put me through for years just to see what a wretched little creature you actually are.”

You turn on your heel and walk away towards the exit. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is curl into a ball in your bed and cry your stupid heart out. Floch can go fuck himself, you truly meant every word you said to him, and as cathartic as that was, you’re still not sure how much good will do to you in the long run. One thing you’re certain of: playing pretend at girlfriend and boyfriend with Porco was a fucking mistake.

*

[01:13] wya

[01:15] hey dipshit you just disappeared where are you

[01:16] are you with everyone else?

[01:18] I just bumped into sasha and she said she hasn’t seen you

[01:19] Y/N please I’m getting worried where are you

[2 missed calls]

[01:23] eren texted me and said they took you to their place for the night

[01:24] are you ok?

[01:24] please just talk to me

[3 missed calls]

[01:25] Y/N please

[1 missed call]

[01:46] Mikasa called me

[01:46] I’m so sorry

[01:47] Y/N, sweetheart, please I’m so sorry I didn’t realise what an absolute dickhead I was being

[01:48] I’ve met forster in college and he was a complete douchebag even then

[01:49] I had no idea he was your ex and I went like a fucking bull in a china shop into that whole situation bc I’ve hated him for so long

[01:50] I’ll explain everything, just please answer me

[02:13] please I just need to know you’re safe at least

[02:15] I’m staying over at Mika’s and Eren’s tonight. I’m safe.

[02:15] ok good I’m glad

[02:15] I’ll talk to you tomorrow and explain everything, ok?

[02:16] I’m sorry

*

You wake up at 8 in the morning the next day. You’ve barely slept, having either cried in Mikasa’s arms or silently sobbed into your pillow the whole night. You should’ve known the whole idea was a mistake, and even Mikasa had the mercy to spare you the ‘I told you so’ speech. You just wanted to go home and curl back into your bed. You didn’t have the energy to talk about it anymore and you definitely didn’t have the mental capacity to watch Mikasa and Eren interact as a whole ass married couple today. So you’ve prepared the coffee pot for the two of them for when they wake up and sent Mikasa a quick text that you went home, before leaving.

The already suffocating air does nothing to your mood and you quicken your pace. You’ve never felt more grateful than now that your friends live only five blocks away. The moment you step out of the elevator, however, you’re faced with an image you couldn’t have predicted even if you had a crystal ball, a tarot deck and a fistful of incense. Porco is leaning on the wall next to your door, two coffee cups in his hands. He straightens up when he sees you and for a second you don’t know how to react.

“What are you doing here, Porco?” You finally sigh, and move to unlock your door.

“Mikasa sent me a text that you’re on your way home so I brought you coffee.”

You let him inside, although all the time wondering whether it wouldn’t just be easier if you’d just lock the door in his face. He follows you to the living room, where you curl yourself into a ball on your couch. Porco just places the coffee on the table and sits down, close enough so your feet would touch his thigh.

“You live half an hour away by car.” You mutter, refusing to look up at him.

“I drove here last night after I sobered up.”

“Did you just stand next to my door like a fucking creep all night?” You can feel the rage boiling to the surface yet again. You watch him nearly placing his hand on your calf in appeasement – he’d do that whenever you’d start getting agitated, but thankfully he doesn’t this time. You’d have probably just kicked him out if he did.

“No, I waited in the car. And when Mikasa told me you’d be coming home, I went to that coffeehouse around the corner you like and bought you coffee. Then that nice lady on the 7thfloor let me in the building when she was leaving to go to the market.”

“You know an awful lot about my neighbours.” You mumble, but at least you’ve sat up and picked up your cup, now that you know it’s not poisoned.

“I’ve been here enough times to meet some of them.” He smiles. “And she told me she’s going to the market. She also asked me to take care of you.” He adds lowly, looking at you.

It’s weird seeing Porco so serious and sad at the same time. It’s weird not calling you some shitty name every three sentences. And talking to you like you’re made of glass. You don’t like pity. And you are still filled with rage so no wonder you’re extra irrational today.

“Why would you take care of me, Porco? Do you think I’m such a damsel in distress that I can’t take care of my own fucking self? Do you think I’m so weak and stupid I can’t function without someone else taking decisions for me?”

“I think you should eat something and go back to sleep.”

“For fuck’s sake, Galliard! Why the fuck are you here?” You shout, fed up with his whole behaviour.

You want old Porco back, as much as you hate to admit it. You want funny and mean Porco back, who doesn’t beat around the bush and would tell you you’re an idiot, without a second thought. You want Porco who always tell you the truth. You don’t like this version of Porco. You want your Porco.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!” He shouts back. There he is. “D’you wanna know why I’m here? I’m here because I wanted to make sure you’re ok. I wanted to make sure you eat and drink some water and you’re not crying in a puddle on the floor. I wanted to hold you in my arms and apologise for putting my foot in my mouth last night like a dickhead because I was too blinded by my animosity towards Forster to realise that was your battle to fight. I’m here because I wanted to say sorry I agreed to this whole stupid ass plan in the first place because I didn’t realise it wouldn’t change anything and nothing good will come out of it. I wanted to come here and tell you that I don’t want to fake date you, I want to actually date you and I want to call you mine for real, and not just pretend.”

Porco is breathing heavily at this point and there’s a few strands of his gelled back hair that fell into his face. He’s looking at you, expecting an answer that doesn’t seem to come. You’re still holding your coffee cup, and you did want to hear him say what he’s actually thinking, but you sure as hell did not expect this.

“Right.” He mutters, pushing back his hair. “I’ll get going then.”

“What the fuck are you on about, Galliard? Sit the fuck down.” You bark.

The shock on his face is priceless, and you’d seriously give up an arm to be able to bottle it up and see it every time it strikes your fancy. But what’s important is that your aggression has its desired effect and he sits back down. You take one of his hands in yours and sigh for what feels like the hundredth time today. All before 9 am and with no coffee in your system.

“Porco…” You start, but have no idea what else to say.

“Yeah?” He tries prodding you to continue.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m well aware of that, you clown.” Porco rolls his eyes. “You have to be more specific as to the reason why.”

“I’m not good with words.” You mutter.

“You were amazing with words last night, honey.”

You both flinch at the memory. Neither of you wants to think about the altercation with Floch. Least of all you.

“’m sorry. I’ll just shut up.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best, Galliard.” You sigh. “The whole thing was a mistake, yeah. I’m happy it happened though for two reasons. One, I realised I needed that closure to finally move on with my life. And two, it brought me you.”

Porco squeezes your hand. You look at each other in silence and stay like that for too many minutes to count, until you let out an involuntary yawn, making Porco chuckle. He sends you off to take a shower, because “in all honesty, you’re stinky. I have no idea how Mikasa let you sleep in her guest bedroom without forcing you to clean yourself with bleach first”. You want to complain, but the moment the warm water hits your body, you sag into the feeling of all your worries and sadness being washed away.

As you get out of the bathroom and watch Porco put a sandwich on a plate, you realise you’re…calm. Maybe not happy entirely, but there are no dark clouds on the horizon. You’re simply here, with Porco in your kitchen as he softly hums something familiar under his breath, not caring about what your next step should be. Just living.

He doesn’t notice you until your arms snake around his torso, as you pull him towards you, leaning your head in the space between his shoulder blades. He stops wiping the counter and places a hand over yours. You stay like that in silence, yet again, until he brings your fingertips to his mouth and kisses each and every one of them.

“I think I love you.” He whispers and if it weren’t for the vibrations under your cheek, you could’ve sworn you dreamt it.

Your breath hitches in your throat, unsure of whether you were supposed to hear that or not. Porco turns around and pulls you back into him by your hips, as he leans on the counter. He’s smiling and it’s such a rare sight, you almost forget his last words.

“I’m sure you heard me, dumbass.” He chuckles.

“Oh, I thought you were talking to the coffee pot again.” You grin.

“Stop deflecting talking about feelings with jokes, you fuck.”

“You better get used to it, dummy. That’s all you’re gonna get from now on. Bad jokes and – “

Porco cuts off your next words by pressing his lips to yours. It’s slow and easy as breathing. It’s tender and sweet like the taste of coffee on his tongue. It’s the smile you can feel against your mouth and it’s the quick pecks that keep coming, even after you stop for air. It’s the way he looks down at you as if you’ve hung the moon.

“Uh – “ You start, momentarily forgetting words, until you settle on the easiest, with a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“Shit, baby.” He laughs. “If I knew I had to kiss you to finally compliment me I would’ve done it sooner.”

“Nevermind, you look like a fucking troll.”

“I hate you so much.”

“You told me you love me. Too late, bitch, you’re stuck with me now.”

“What’s the return policy? I’d like a refund.”

“Do you want a refund on my love?” You pout and there – that is the look you’d give an arm to bottle up and see every single day for the rest of your life. That completely dazed look when he hears you say, “I love you too, Pock.”

*

So I’ve been thinking

Oh no

Did it hurt your brain? Are you ok? Should I call an ambulance?

You know, one of these days I’ll just call child protection services and ask them to take you away

Who you gonna fuck then

Eren

He’s hot as fuck

Wow no hesitation

That man’s ridiculously hot and you know it

ANYWAY

It’s ok dipshit, no need to get jealous

You’re the only one I want to fuck

ANYWAY????

I wasn’t going to talk about how much I love you jeesh calm tf down you weirdo

Are you going to get to the point one of these days or should I just wait for my menopause to get back to this chat

You’re insufferable

I was thinking we should get fake married

????

Much confusion

Explain

Well, in order to start dating we had to fake date first

So I thought that in order to get married, we’ll have to get fake married first

Brilliant train of thought, Galliard

I am proud of you

We are never having babies

They might inherit your stupidity

I’m cutting off toxic people in my life and you are the first on the list

Is this your way of asking me to marry you?

I’m not gonna ask you to marry me through text you fucking clown

I’m just testing the waters

See what you’re gonna say

What if you’ll say no

And break my heart

Even after two whole ass years of dating and living together

Come home and ask me face to face, you pussy

I’m still at work

Wanna know the answer or not?

Omw

Did you buy me a ring?

Well I didn’t think I’d be proposing TODAY??????

We’re sorry, the number you have texted is unavailable. Please try again when your brain starts functioning again.

You know what

Nevermind

I don’t wanna marry you anymore

POCK, BABY NOOOOO I WAS JOKING

Grenouille

Cute

But small and stupid