Lily, would you write some pokopiku? đ„č
anon, i will always write some pkpk!
breaking free
pokopiku. high school musical au.
3984 words.
Soaring, flying
Thereâs not a star in heaven that we canât reachÂ
Porco can only recall those two lines, but the rest of the muddled melody plays in his mind for days on end. Sometimes he doesnât know if heâs imagining it or if itâs just Pieck humming it beside him. When heâs lost in a daze, that song playing in the background of his mind, heâll startle from his daydream and turn expecting to see her by his side only to realize that it was all in his head the entire time. Â
He doesnât hate music. In fact, he actually kind of likes it. He might not go out of his way to attend concerts or buy musical tickets. Hell, he hasnât even paid attention to any of the low-budget productions that his school puts on every semester until recently. He just likes to strum the lonely guitar sitting in his living room every once in a while, and he admittedly doesnât mind hearing Pieck humming beside him when they should be focusing on their chemistry experiment. Itâs just that he has other things he should be thinking about: how to improve his free throws, the upcoming basketball game with Shiganshina High, and the basketball championship that his team is set on winning. He has no time for songs or dances no matter how many fliers Pieck shoves under his nose. Â
He finds it curious that sheâs even interested in the schoolâs upcoming musical, although sheâs never been normal in the first place. She had transferred here a month into the new school year. The teachers adored her for her intelligence and her willingness to participate in class. Her academic credentials were undoubtedly impressive: a straight A student with a dozen math and science championship titles under her belt. She would, of course, be representing Liberio High in the International Math Olympiad with all the other math whizzes in their school. She fit quite neatly into her niche of smart, intellectual students destined to graduate one year early and attend an Ivy League just as Porco fit neatly into his own niche of big, burly athletes that were aiming to attend a top-rated sports university on an athletic scholarship.Â
Porco is putting his books away in his locker when someone slams it shut, making him jump. Â
âJesus, Pieck!â he yelps. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. âWhat the fuck? You could have slammed my fingers in there.â Â
âOh, please. I wouldnât have done that to the schoolâs basketball star shooting guard,â Pieck says with a crooked smile. She leans against his locker, her head resting against the cool metal door. âI made sure your precious fingers were out of the way before I closed the locker door.â Â
âIâm the point guard,â Porco says even though heâs had to correct Pieck on his position on the basketball team multiple times at this point. He has a feeling she purposely gets it wrong just to annoy him. He can feel the tips of his ears begin to sting, although he doesnât quite know why. âWhat do you want anyway? You donât have to keep reminding me to write my lab report. Theyâre individual anyway.âÂ
âAw, youâre so grown up now,â Pieck coos, and Porco wants to cover his ears before they turn completely red but he resists the urge and keeps his hands at his side. âNo, thatâs not what I wanted to talk to you about. I just wanted to tell you that I signed you up for the upcoming school musical. The auditions are tomorrow.â Â
Porco straightens up in alarm. He would think this were a joke, but he wouldnât put it past Pieck to scrawl his name down on the audition list for real. She had been talking about it for the past few weeks when auditions were first announced, but he didnât think she would actually do it. She had math competitions to study for and he had his basketball games. With all the time they put in their current extracurriculars, he didnât know how they would even have the time to prepare for a musical on the slim chance they managed to pass auditions. Â
âYouâre joking, right?â he asks, but he feels as if he already knows the answer to that question when he sees the way Pieckâs smile never breaks. He runs a hand through his hair and curses when he sees the grease that covers his fingers from his hair gel. He glares at Pieck as if this is her fault, but she doesnât seem deterred. âPieck, Iâm not a musical guy. Itâs fine if you want to juggle all of these different things â math whiz, science nerd, theater geek â but I have my hands full as it is being -â Â
â- a jock?â Pieck finishes for him, eye brow raised. She rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her lips. For some reason, Porco is beginning to feel ashamed. Pieck pushes herself off Porcoâs locker. Her smile is a little less relaxed now, stretched into a thin, tight line. âCome on, Porco. You canât seriously subscribe to the strict status quo that all your classmates do. Itâs all made up by teenagers, for Godâs sake. You must want more in life than being shoved into a shoebox labeled âhigh school basketball star.ââ Â
âWell, maybe I like being a high school basketball star. Maybe youâre dissatisfied with being good at one thing, but Iâm perfectly happy with it,â Porco snaps. He hikes the strap of his backpack up his shoulder and looks down at Pieck, but the frown that has replaced her smile doesnât make him feel very good about defending himself. Â
Pieck purses her lips and looks as if sheâs about to turn away, but she opens her mouth instead. âYou know, I signed you up because I thought it would be fun, and also because I thought you would be good at it.â She looks down at the tiles on the hallway floor, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "I hear you singing sometimes, and I think itâs amazing. You probably donât even realize it, but you were singing just a few minutes earlier. It was under your breath, but I heard you.â Â
Porcoâs cheeks begin to flush and he wants to deny it, but he knows that what Pieck says is true. Heâs been singing the song for the audition piece because it plays in his head on repeat. He wants to snap at Pieck again and blame her for getting the song stuck in his head in the first place, but he knows that there isnât any point. She isnât saying anything hurtful, just pointing something out what heâs been trying to ignore for years: he enjoys music. If it wasnât the song for the musical, it would be some other song that heâd be singing under his breath. Even if heâd never admit it out loud, he has thought about what it would feel like to be standing underneath a spotlight on a stage instead of a basketball court. Â
âItâs okay if you just want to play basketball, but ⊠I donât think itâs bad to like other things either,â Pieck says. She raises her brown eyes to meet his hazel ones. One hand reaches out, and Pieckâs fingertips graze Porcoâs arm. âWeâre too young to be playing personas that other people have written for us. We should be figuring out who we are on our own terms without minding what other people might think of us.â Â
Pieck squeezes his arm and Porco watches as she leaves. A few people glance in Pieckâs direction. Sheâs been a spectacle at their school ever since she had transferred here, and people werenât used to seeing someone who was on the math team speak with a member of the basketball team. Now that Porco thinks about it, he doesnât know why that would be enough reason for people to stop and stare. People should be allowed to associate with whoever they like regardless of what clubs theyâre in or sports they play. He knows itâs ridiculous, but he still feels embarrassed anyway and pulls up the collar of his bomber jacket and skulks away as if heâs done something shameful.Â
â©âË.ââŸââșââ§Â
âAre you auditioning for the musical or something?â Â
Porco has never particularly liked Reiner Braun, but the power forwardâs voice is especially grating today. After his conversation with Pieck earlier this morning, Porco finds heâs especially irritable, but he doesnât want to take it out on anyone recklessly so he grits his teeth and asks, âWhat are you talking about?â Â
A panic seizes his chest and he can feel his heart rate pick up. Paranoia begins to pick away at Porco, whispering in his ear. Reiner Braun must have seen you talking with Pieck. He must know that youâve been thinking about what Pieck had said. He must have seen your name on the audition list. Porco doesnât know why the thought of Reiner knowing about his conversation with Pieck bothers him so much, but he tries to play it nonchalant despite the clamminess in his hands. He shoots a ball at the hoop in front of him and misses terribly. Â
Reiner, always happy to see Porco failing, grins when he sees Porcoâs missed shot. He turns back to Porco, a knowing smile on his face. âCome on, everyoneâs heard you singing the audition song in the locker room. Even if youâre singing it under your breath, we can all hear you. Youâre not seriously thinking of auditioning, are you?â Â
Last year, Porco would have scoffed and told Reiner he was stupid for even entertaining the thought. A basketball player didnât have any place in the school musical. People at this school adhere so much to their little stereotyped boxes that Porco never would have considered auditioning for the school musical until Pieck had waltzed in and started singing that damn song. Now is his chance to deny it, but he doesnât want to. All he can think about instead is how annoying it is to have Reinerâs judgmental sneer in his face and how there isnât any harm in just auditioning for a dumb school play. Â
âI donât really see how thatâs any of your business,â Porco finds himself saying instead and Reiner steps back, startled at his teammateâs answer. Â
âWell, it kind of is my business. Itâs everyoneâs business. You canât be making these types of decisions by yourself,â Reiner begins, and already Porco finds his temper rising. Reiner continues, not noticing the way Porcoâs grip on the basketball tighten. âYouâre part of a basketball team, and a pretty important part of the team, and itâs everyoneâs job to get to the championship. If youâre taking time to sing and dance on stage for a stupid school play, you might cost us first place. We havenât lost first place in years. The whole school is counting on us.â Â
âI didnât ask for this responsibility!â Porco snaps. Why should an entire championship hinge on the shoulders of a teenage boy? Why shouldnât he be able to do a silly little play even if his talents might lie elsewhere? Why canât he just do things he enjoys without everyone having a say in what he should and shouldnât do? Â
Reinerâs smile falters and his brow furrows. âYouâve been awfully strange lately. Basketball used to be the only thing you cared about. The rest of the team has been concerned, too. â The corner of Reinerâs lip twitches in a knowing smile. âI know youâve been getting closer to Pieck, but I donât think you should hang out with her anymore. You only started acting weird after meeting her.â Â
Porcoâs patience was already wearing thin. At the mention of Pieckâs name â with the implication that Pieck was the reason for his declining performance in basketball practice â his patience snaps entirely, but rather than throwing a fist or hurling insults at his teammate, Porco simply asks Reiner, âWhy are you dating Historia?âÂ
Reinerâs smile falters once more, caught off guard by Porcoâs question. âWhy are you asking -â Â
âWhy do you like Historia?â Porco interrupts. Â
Reinerâs brow furrows and he shrinks down, his shoulders hunching over. Itâs a stark contrast to the way he typically holds himself: confident, brash, bold. Now, he seems uncertain as he fumbles for an answer. âSheâs the head cheerleader. Why wouldnât I like her?â Reiner replies, but his smile is too shaky for his response to be one hundred percent truthful. Â
âSo if she werenât the head cheerleader, you wouldnât even give her a second glance?â Porco asks. Â
âWhy are you asking me this?â Reiner asks. His cheeks are turning red as he becomes more and more flustered. He pulls at the collar of his jersey, fanning himself, and turns his face away from Porco. âLook, I like Historia. Doesnât it just make sense that weâd be together? Iâm the power forward on the basketball team. Sheâs the head cheerleader. We complement each other.â Â
âDo you, though?â Porco steps forward, challenging Reiner. Reiner had outgrown him years ago, gaining several inches in height as everyone was going through their growth spurts. Porco could never keep up with him in height, but now he feels like heâs like heâs the one towering over Reiner as the power forward continues to shrink down with doubt. âForget about whatever cliques or extracurricular groups weâre in for a second. Do you like her? Do you like being with her? What do you two even talk about?â Â
Porco feels like he knows the answers to all those questions, and he asks them anyway. Two months ago, Reiner and Historia had never even spoken a word to each other. It was only when Pieck had transferred here that they began talking. When Pieck was about to be seated in the back, Reiner raised his hand and volunteered to give up his seat in the second row for her so that Pieck would be able to see better. He sat next to Historia and, although the cheerleader seemed disinterested at first, the two eventually went out, but Porco always felt strange about their relationship. They didnât seem affectionate except for the occasional chaste kiss on the cheek at basketball games. When they hung out at parties, Historia was always tapping away at her phone. Reiner talked to his friends on the basketball court than he talked to Historia. They are the biggest couple on campus, but they donât seem to like each other very much. Â
Reiner must know that, too, because his face begins to contort in confusion and then in anger. âWhatâs your fucking problem, Galliard?â Â
âWhatâs your problem?â Porco asks. âWhat makes you think you have the right to criticize my relationship with Pieck when your relationship with Historia seems so vapid in comparison? Woohoo, hot basketball star with the head cheerleader, but you guys donât even talk to each other unless people are watching you. You have a deeper relationship with Bertholdt than Historia.âÂ
Something about what Porco says angers Reiner even more. In his anger, Reiner grabs the basketball from Porco only to throw it angrily back at him. He throws it with such force that Porco has to stumble backward when he catches it. The basketball feels like a punch to the gut. Â
âFuck you,â Reiner snarls, and he turns and stalks off but not in time to hide the slight trembling of his voice. Â
Porco can feel his blood pumping, thrumming in his ears. He grips the basketball tightly between his hands and turns towards the hoop. Heâs standing at the free throw line, but the hoop somehow feels further than it normally is. He prepares himself to take a shot, bending down slightly to aim. He flings the ball forward and misses entirely. It isnât even close. Â
â©âË.ââŸââșââ§Â
For all his brave words to Reiner and challenging who they should and shouldnât be associating with, Porco doesnât make any further moves to rock the boat. He wants to avoid the curious glances from his classmates and judgmental stares from his peers. He keeps his lips pressed tightly together. He doesnât even dare to hum the song under his breath for fear of being overheard. He doesnât want anyone â any innocent classmates passing by, Pieck, or even himself â to get the wrong idea. Â
Still, he finds the flyer being slipped over his desk every day leading up to the audition. Pieck doesnât say much when she sends the flyer in his direction. She slips it to him wordlessly every morning before their chemistry lecture starts and then ignores him for the rest of the class unless they have to discuss the reading together or work on an experiment. Sheâs not her usual bubbly self even when heâs kinder to her than usual, asking her mundane questions about her day or classes that he normally wouldnât. Heâs grateful for her curt answers no matter how short because at least that means he gets to hear his voice. He wonders if he should apologize, but he doesnât know what for exactly. Heâs never really been the best at apologies in the first place. Â
At the end of each chemistry class, she taps again at the flyer. She raises her eyes towards his face but never quite meets his eyes. Quietly, she always says, âThe audition is soon. It would be good if you could make it.â Â
He always makes up the same excuse. His words always ring hollow in his ears. He wonders if Pieck hears it, too, the hesitancy in his voice when he says he canât audition because he doesnât know the words and he doesnât have the time to rehearse because he has basketball practice. The truth is that he knows every single line, heâs memorized it and hears her sing every word in his head every second of every day. He knows the song by heart and he can envision himself singing it alongside her, his voice harmonizing with hers as they stand underneath the spotlight. Even thinking about it is thrilling. It makes his heart beat faster than any basketball game ever did, but itâs not something heâs willing to ever admit so he ignores the pounding in his chest and tells Pieck thereâs no way he could ever audition. He isnât meant for it. She should go audition for it if itâs something she really wants to do, but she shouldnât count on him to show up. Â
âI think youâd do great,â Pieck says on the day of the audition. Her finger is pointed towards the flyer once more, tapping on the date which is circled in red pen in case Porco misses it. She finally meets his gaze today, and she looks almost hopeful even though heâs tried to crush any hopes she had every other day. Â
âI have practice,â Porco mumbles, and he doesnât even take the flyer this time. He leaves it on his desk and grabs his backpack instead, hustling out of the room as fast as he can so he can avoid Pieckâs disappointed gaze. Â
He hurries off to practice, but it feels like heâs running away from something. Even once heâs changed into his jersey and running on the court with his teammates, he canât stop thinking of how he had left Pieck standing alone at their desk. He had never promised her anything, and yet it feels as if heâs abandoned her. His mind is filled with her â her lonely silhouette standing underneath the bright stage lights, her disappointed expression every time he turned her down, her voice echoing across the empty auditorium. He doesnât hear the voice of his coach yelling at him or his teammates shouting at him when they tell him to pass the ball. All he can hear is that song again, the song that he would have sang if he went to the audition. Â
âWhatâs wrong with you?â his coach shouts before pulling him out of practice to sit on the bench. Â
Porco wishes he could answer, but itâs too complex to give a straight answer so he sits on the cold, metal bench and stares at his shoes. Every so often, he glances at the clock on the wall and grows more anxious with every minute that passes. Itâs almost four oâclock. Thatâs when the auditions are meant to conclude. Had Pieck already gone? Had she auditioned by herself, singing that song that was meant to be a duet? Had she gone on without him, doing something he was too afraid to do himself? Â
He tastes blood on his tongue and jerks his head back in surprise. He hadnât even noticed he had started chewing on his thumb nail. He bit too close to the quick and now his thumb is bleeding. He staunches the blood by pressing it against the hem of his shorts, but the material does little to stop the bleeding. He curses and looks back up at the clock. How can move so agonizingly slow and so fast at the same time? Â
Without warning, he stands up and begins to run toward the gym entrance.Â
âGalliard!â the coach shouts. âWhere the fuck are you going?â Â
Where I should have been all along, Porco thinks, but he doesnât say it out loud. He has more important things to do. Â
He stumbles through the back of the auditorium and he can see other people who have just finished auditioning looking at him quizzically. Theyâre people he canât recognize, part of the theater geek circle that he doesnât associate with. Theyâre probably wondering why heâs there at all, and Porco would wonder the same thing if he couldnât hear Pieckâs voice ringing through the theater.Â
He creeps through the backstage towards the sound of Pieckâs voice, clear as crystal as she sings half a duet. It sounds empty without the other person singing the other half, but she keeps her voice steady as she sings, undeterred that sheâs singing alone. Â
Porco finally reaches the curtain and pushes it back slightly to catch a glimpse of Pieck. Her back is turned towards him and she faces the drama instructor, her voice never wavering even under the directorâs stern gaze. She only has the piano to accompany her, but she sings confidently. Her voice fills the entire theater and Porco can hear it, the missing half of the song. He doesnât realize that heâs singing along with her, that itâs not his imagination thatâs filling in the gap but his own voice, until Pieck turns toward him.Â
She doesnât look angry at him or even surprised. Her lips turn upward as she sings and she gestures for him to step forward, to join her onstage, and he takes her invitation, never missing a beat even when he feels the heat of the spotlight on his skin.Â
âWeâre soaring, flying,â Porco sings, his voice mingling with Pieckâs. He thought his legs would shake as soon as he stepped on stage, but he feels at ease by her side. âThereâs not a star in heaven we canât reach.â Â
His eyes meet Pieckâs and he can feel his own lips stretch into a smile even as he sings. Heâs not sure if heâs meant to be on stage. He doesnât know if heâll even make it past this audition, but he knows that this feels thrilling, like heâs broken chains that he didnât know were shackled to him. He feels like heâs finally free. Â
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