The world was quiet again.

The kind of quiet that only followed destruction.

Smoke still lingered in the sky from the burning remains of another battlefield—a mission completed, another hollow victory stacked on top of the last. The sun was gone. Night crept in from the east, casting long shadows across the broken trees and cracked stones.

You sat there—leaning against a wall of ruined debris, still wearing the remnants of your uniform. Hair damp with sweat. Muscles sore. Steam rising faintly from your arms where the transformation marks hadn’t faded.

You were tired. Not from the fight—but from existing.

Then you heard his footsteps.

Not rushed. Not cautious. Just… casual. Familiar.

Porco.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just kicked a broken helmet aside and dropped beside you, sitting on the ground with a grunt.

He didn’t look at you. And you didn’t look at him.

That was your language.

Silence first.

“I thought you were gonna stay in Titan form forever this time,” he muttered after a moment.

You didn’t answer. Just kept your eyes ahead, watching the distant fires flicker in the dark.

He sighed. Loudly.

“Tch. Always like this. Always running inside your own head.”

Still, you didn’t speak.

But your fingers curled slightly against the dirt.

Porco noticed.

His voice softened—barely.

“…You alright?”

You closed your eyes. The question sat between you, heavier than any battlefield weapon.

“Do you care?” you finally replied, your voice rough.

He scoffed. “Don’t be stupid.”

Silence again. The space between you crackled.

And then—

“I wait for you.”

That stopped your breath.

You turned your head, slowly, meeting his eyes in the dim light.

He was already staring at you. No smirk. No glare. Just… him. Tired. Honest. A little bitter. A little scared.

You opened your mouth. Closed it again. Nothing came out.

“I wait,” he repeated, quieter this time. “After every mission. After every shift. After every time you decide to throw yourself into something that might kill you.”

You swallowed hard.

“I wait, Annie.”

You wanted to ask why. You wanted to pretend you didn’t know. But you did.

Because Porco wasn’t like the others. He saw through the act. Through the silence. Through the cold exterior you wore like armor. He had always been too blunt, too proud, too damn real.

And for some reason—he kept choosing you.

You looked down, then said, “I don’t know how to come back.”

His voice was low. “Then let me pull you out.”

You turned your face to him—eyes tired, but honest.

“I’m not good for people like you.”

“I don’t want ‘good,’” he said. “I want you.”

He leaned closer now. Not aggressively. Not urgently.

Just close enough to feel the heat from your skin.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “You never do.”

You didn’t.

Instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder, soft and slow. Your body relaxed for the first time in days. He didn’t move. He just let you stay there.

And that was enough.

That was everything.

Because in a world that demanded monsters from both of you, somehow— in that moment—

You found something human.

In him.

And maybe… he had always found it in you.