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pickalilywrites · 2 days

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Lily, would you write some pokopiku? 🥹

anon, i will always write some pkpk!

breaking free

pokopiku. high school musical au. 3984 words.

Soaring, flying

There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach

Porco can only recall those two lines, but the rest of the muddled melody plays in his mind for days on end. Sometimes he doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or if it’s just Pieck humming it beside him. When he’s lost in a daze, that song playing in the background of his mind, he’ll 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.

He doesn’t 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 hasn’t 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 doesn’t mind hearing Pieck humming beside him when they should be focusing on their chemistry experiment. It’s 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.

He finds it curious that she’s even interested in the school’s upcoming musical, although she’s 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.

Porco is putting his books away in his locker when someone slams it shut, making him jump.

“Jesus, Pieck!” he yelps. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. “What the fuck? You could have slammed my fingers in there.”

“Oh, please. I wouldn’t have done that to the school’s basketball star shooting guard,” Pieck says with a crooked smile. She leans against his locker, her head resting against the cool metal door. “I made sure your precious fingers were out of the way before I closed the locker door.”

“I’m the point guard,” Porco says even though he’s 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 doesn’t quite know why. “What do you want anyway? You don’t have to keep reminding me to write my lab report. They’re individual anyway.”

“Aw, you’re so grown up now,” 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. “No, that’s 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.”

Porco straightens up in alarm. He would think this were a joke, but he wouldn’t 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 didn’t 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 didn’t know how they would even have the time to prepare for a musical on the slim chance they managed to pass auditions.

“You’re joking, right?” he asks, but he feels as if he already knows the answer to that question when he sees the way Pieck’s 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 doesn’t seem deterred. “Pieck, I’m not a musical guy. It’s fine if you want to juggle all of these different things — math whiz, science nerd, theater geek — but I have my hands full as it is being -”

“- a jock?” 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 Porco’s locker. Her smile is a little less relaxed now, stretched into a thin, tight line. “Come on, Porco. You can’t seriously subscribe to the strict status quo that all your classmates do. It’s all made up by teenagers, for God’s sake. You must want more in life than being shoved into a shoebox labeled ‘high school basketball star.’”

“Well, maybe I like being a high school basketball star. Maybe you’re dissatisfied with being good at one thing, but I’m perfectly happy with it,” 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 doesn’t make him feel very good about defending himself.

Pieck purses her lips and looks as if she’s about to turn away, but she opens her mouth instead. “You know, I signed you up because I thought it would be fun, and also because I thought you would be good at it.” 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 it’s amazing. You probably don’t even realize it, but you were singing just a few minutes earlier. It was under your breath, but I heard you.”

Porco’s cheeks begin to flush and he wants to deny it, but he knows that what Pieck says is true. He’s 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 isn’t any point. She isn’t saying anything hurtful, just pointing something out what he’s been trying to ignore for years: he enjoys music. If it wasn’t the song for the musical, it would be some other song that he’d be singing under his breath. Even if he’d 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.

“It’s okay if you just want to play basketball, but … I don’t think it’s bad to like other things either,” Pieck says. She raises her brown eyes to meet his hazel ones. One hand reaches out, and Pieck’s fingertips graze Porco’s arm. “We’re 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.”

Pieck squeezes his arm and Porco watches as she leaves. A few people glance in Pieck’s direction. She’s been a spectacle at their school ever since she had transferred here, and people weren’t 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 doesn’t 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 they’re in or sports they play. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he still feels embarrassed anyway and pulls up the collar of his bomber jacket and skulks away as if he’s done something shameful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Are you auditioning for the musical or something?”

Porco has never particularly liked Reiner Braun, but the power forward’s voice is especially grating today. After his conversation with Pieck earlier this morning, Porco finds he’s especially irritable, but he doesn’t want to take it out on anyone recklessly so he grits his teeth and asks, “What are you talking about?”

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 you’ve been thinking about what Pieck had said. He must have seen your name on the audition list. Porco doesn’t 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.

Reiner, always happy to see Porco failing, grins when he sees Porco’s missed shot. He turns back to Porco, a knowing smile on his face. “Come on, everyone’s heard you singing the audition song in the locker room. Even if you’re singing it under your breath, we can all hear you. You’re not seriously thinking of auditioning, are you?”

Last year, Porco would have scoffed and told Reiner he was stupid for even entertaining the thought. A basketball player didn’t 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 doesn’t want to. All he can think about instead is how annoying it is to have Reiner’s judgmental sneer in his face and how there isn��t any harm in just auditioning for a dumb school play.

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business,” Porco finds himself saying instead and Reiner steps back, startled at his teammate’s answer.

“Well, it kind of is my business. It’s everyone’s business. You can’t be making these types of decisions by yourself,” Reiner begins, and already Porco finds his temper rising. Reiner continues, not noticing the way Porco’s grip on the basketball tighten. “You’re part of a basketball team, and a pretty important part of the team, and it’s everyone’s job to get to the championship. If you’re taking time to sing and dance on stage for a stupid school play, you might cost us first place. We haven’t lost first place in years. The whole school is counting on us.”

“I didn’t ask for this responsibility!” Porco snaps. Why should an entire championship hinge on the shoulders of a teenage boy? Why shouldn’t he be able to do a silly little play even if his talents might lie elsewhere? Why can’t he just do things he enjoys without everyone having a say in what he should and shouldn’t do?

Reiner’s smile falters and his brow furrows. “You’ve been awfully strange lately. Basketball used to be the only thing you cared about. The rest of the team has been concerned, too. ” The corner of Reiner’s lip twitches in a knowing smile. “I know you’ve been getting closer to Pieck, but I don’t think you should hang out with her anymore. You only started acting weird after meeting her.”

Porco’s patience was already wearing thin. At the mention of Pieck’s name — with the implication that Pieck was the reason for his declining performance in basketball practice — his patience snaps entirely, but rather than throwing a fist or hurling insults at his teammate, Porco simply asks Reiner, “Why are you dating Historia?”

Reiner’s smile falters once more, caught off guard by Porco’s question. “Why are you asking -”

“Why do you like Historia?” Porco interrupts.

Reiner’s brow furrows and he shrinks down, his shoulders hunching over. It’s a stark contrast to the way he typically holds himself: confident, brash, bold. Now, he seems uncertain as he fumbles for an answer. “She’s the head cheerleader. Why wouldn’t I like her?” Reiner replies, but his smile is too shaky for his response to be one hundred percent truthful.

“So if she weren’t the head cheerleader, you wouldn’t even give her a second glance?” Porco asks.

“Why are you asking me this?” 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. “Look, I like Historia. Doesn’t it just make sense that we’d be together? I’m the power forward on the basketball team. She’s the head cheerleader. We complement each other.”

“Do you, though?” 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 he’s like he’s the one towering over Reiner as the power forward continues to shrink down with doubt. “Forget about whatever cliques or extracurricular groups we’re in for a second. Do you like her? Do you like being with her? What do you two even talk about?”

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 didn’t 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 don’t seem to like each other very much.

Reiner must know that, too, because his face begins to contort in confusion and then in anger. “What’s your fucking problem, Galliard?”

“What’s your problem?” Porco asks. “What 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 don’t even talk to each other unless people are watching you. You have a deeper relationship with Bertholdt than Historia.”

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.

“Fuck you,” Reiner snarls, and he turns and stalks off but not in time to hide the slight trembling of his voice.

Porco can feel his blood pumping, thrumming in his ears. He grips the basketball tightly between his hands and turns towards the hoop. He’s 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 isn’t even close.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

For all his brave words to Reiner and challenging who they should and shouldn’t be associating with, Porco doesn’t 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 doesn’t even dare to hum the song under his breath for fear of being overheard. He doesn’t want anyone — any innocent classmates passing by, Pieck, or even himself — to get the wrong idea.

Still, he finds the flyer being slipped over his desk every day leading up to the audition. Pieck doesn’t 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. She’s not her usual bubbly self even when he’s kinder to her than usual, asking her mundane questions about her day or classes that he normally wouldn’t. He’s 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 doesn’t know what for exactly. He’s never really been the best at apologies in the first place.

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, “The audition is soon. It would be good if you could make it.”

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 can’t audition because he doesn’t know the words and he doesn’t have the time to rehearse because he has basketball practice. The truth is that he knows every single line, he’s 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 it’s not something he’s willing to ever admit so he ignores the pounding in his chest and tells Pieck there’s no way he could ever audition. He isn’t meant for it. She should go audition for it if it’s something she really wants to do, but she shouldn’t count on him to show up.

“I think you’d do great,” 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 he’s tried to crush any hopes she had every other day.

“I have practice,” Porco mumbles, and he doesn’t 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 Pieck’s disappointed gaze.

He hurries off to practice, but it feels like he’s running away from something. Even once he’s changed into his jersey and running on the court with his teammates, he can’t 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 he’s abandoned her. His mind is filled with her — 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 doesn’t 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.

“What’s wrong with you?” his coach shouts before pulling him out of practice to sit on the bench.

Porco wishes he could answer, but it’s 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. It’s almost four o’clock. That’s 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?

He tastes blood on his tongue and jerks his head back in surprise. He hadn’t 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?

Without warning, he stands up and begins to run toward the gym entrance.

“Galliard!” the coach shouts. “Where the fuck are you going?”

Where I should have been all along, Porco thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. He has more important things to do.

He stumbles through the back of the auditorium and he can see other people who have just finished auditioning looking at him quizzically. They’re people he can’t recognize, part of the theater geek circle that he doesn’t associate with. They’re probably wondering why he’s there at all, and Porco would wonder the same thing if he couldn’t hear Pieck’s voice ringing through the theater.

He creeps through the backstage towards the sound of Pieck’s 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 she’s singing alone.

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 director’s 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 doesn’t realize that he’s singing along with her, that it’s not his imagination that’s filling in the gap but his own voice, until Pieck turns toward him.

She doesn’t 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.

“We’re soaring, flying,” Porco sings, his voice mingling with Pieck’s. He thought his legs would shake as soon as he stepped on stage, but he feels at ease by her side. “There’s not a star in heaven we can’t reach.”

His eyes meet Pieck’s and he can feel his own lips stretch into a smile even as he sings. He’s not sure if he’s meant to be on stage. He doesn’t know if he’ll even make it past this audition, but he knows that this feels thrilling, like he’s broken chains that he didn’t know were shackled to him. He feels like he’s finally free.

#snk #pokkopiku #pokopiku #porco galliard #pieck finger #high school musical au #hsm au #asks #answered #anon #anonymous #requests

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