grunge...bby

“Fix your face, Captain,” you say, stepping beside Law and bumping your shoulder with his. “Your face’ll get stuck like that.”

Law side-eyes you, noting that you’re smirking, pleased with and amused by yourself. He doesn’t answer.

You giggle at his silence, smirk turning into a wide grin. Law’s lips twitch imperceptibly into a smile before he steels his face once more.

“Focus, Y/N-ya,” Law warns. “The worst thing you can do is underestimate an enemy.”

“You’re such a worry-wart,” you say, unsheathing your katana.

“You’re a headache,” he counters.

You laugh again.

“I’ll see you when this is over,” you say, leaning in close to his ear, “sweetheart.”

Law blushes, but you don’t see it as you suddenly rush forward into the battle aboard the Polar Tang’s deck, your katana quickly finding home against the steel of an enemy’s blade.

The conflict carries on for a while as pirates clash. Blades clink against one another, scraping as opponents pull apart. Voices cry out in pain as pirates are sliced into, hit, and pushed overboard. If you focus in on the chaos, you can hear Law’s stern voice saying, “Room,” "Tact," and “Shambles” periodically. Across the deck, dead enemies scatter the wood; some enemies have been reassembled incorrectly, legs where shoulders should be, heads on incorrect torsos, and arms and legs switched; and the remaining pirates continue grunting as they swing their weapons and shout insults.

The battle has proceeded for nearly an hour, and the majority of the opposition has been defeated. Yet, there still remain several pirates who are a bit harder to bring down. Despite the Heart Pirates winning the battle, the entire crew is slowing down as the effort of the battle begins to take its toll. You are not immune from this.

You take a deep, shaky breath as you steel yourself, readjusting your grip on your blade and fighting the exhaustion finding a home in your overworked muscles.

Damn. The extra help of a Devil Fruit would be nice about now, you think. Then again, I’d like to be able to swim.

You purse your lips, shaking your head.

Enough. Focus, Y/N.

You take a step forward, rushing your opponent, a tall, burly man with a kinky beard. He’s decked out in jewelry he surely plundered, and a fine coat that seems to set him apart as the captain.

Weird that the captain would fight me and not Law. Captains usually go for each other, don’t they?

Your blade meets the Captain’s in front or you. You grit your teeth as you push forward. Your blades screech as they slide off one another, and the Captain takes a step back before fighting himself and swinging again. You duck, sidestepping away as you swing your sword towards his legs, hitting home. He growls, pushing past the leg wound and charging you once more. You side step him several times, using your Observation Haki to anticipate his moves. Finally, you see a break in his attacks, and you duck again as he steps forward, swinging his sword with the anger of man unused to losing. You push your katana blade forward with as much force as you can muster, stabbing the Captain in the chest, just barely missing his heart.

Damn it!

The Captain screams angrily, but he doesn’t go down. Instead, the hand not grasping tightly onto his sword finds its way into your hair, yanking you away from him. He holds you away from him, pulling your sword out of his chest and throwing it across the deck.

“You little bitch,” he cries. He yanks you close to his face. “You did well. I didn’t expect someone as puny as you to hold your own. Alas,” he snarls, lips curling in a mean, ugly expression, “you’re not stronger than me.”

Still holding you by the hair, the Captain sheathes his sword, exchanging it for a revolver. He holds it to your temple.

“Any last words, bitch?” He asks cruelly, and you expect he probably isn’t actually going to allow you any final words. You consider spitting in his face.

However, you don’t get to fully ponder the thought before the Tang is covered in a blue dome as a familiar voice yells, “ROOM!”

The Captain holding your life in his hands looks up to see the enraged Surgeon of Death in front of him. Law is snarling at the man, rage swimming in his eyes, one hand white knuckling Kikoku and the other outstretched and held downward maliciously.

“Take your grimy hands off of my wife.”

Law says the words slowly, with an intense conviction rarely seen. He looks livid, and he looks ready to kill.

The phrase has the desired effect of prolonging your execution. The Captain pauses, one hand still gripping your hair and the other still holding the gun to your head, but his attention has shifted from you to Law. In fact, the whole battlefield pauses, its attention shifting to Law, including the attention of the whole of the Heart Pirates who stutter at the threat.

“WIFE?!” Shachi and Penguin yell, confusion lacing their words.

Bepo suddenly begins wringing his hands anxiously where he stands in front of his unconscious opponent.

“Well, ain’t this the development?” The Captain laughs, a disgusting smirk spreading across his face, and his grip around in your hair tightens as he presses the gun harder against your temple.

“I am giving you 5 seconds to let go of my wife and drop your weapon,” Law says, unfazed by the battlefield's surprise at hearing him call you “wife.” He continues staring down his opponent, weapon at the ready, unfazed by the fear and unease permeating through his enemies.

“And what if I don’t?” The Captain sneers. “What if I shoot her right now and let you watch the life drain from her eyes? What could you do about that, Trafalgar Law?”

The Heart Pirates are panicked, fear swimming in their eyes as they glance at each other and back at the scene unfolding in front of them. The battle has all but ended. Everyone is either unconscious on the ground, floating in the sea, or frozen in anticipation as they watch with bated breath. Who will move first? The trigger-happy captain or Law?

“I promise you,” Law growls out, “you don’t want to find out.”

Then, with unprecedented speed, Law flips his hand.

“Shambles.”

You gasp as you’re transported across the deck, air knocked out of your lungs at the sudden movement. You whip around to look behind you, finding that Law had switched your position with his.

A gunshot rings out and you choke, fearing Law had been shot. However, Law had anticipated the gunshot once he switched places with you, and unhindered by the Captain’s hand, as you had been, he ducks, dodging the bullet.

You watch in awe as Law dodges the gunshot and faces off against your attacker. Law uses his Devil Fruit to throw various objects at the enemy, and he switches his own location several times, moving too quickly for the Captain to aim his weapon. Finally, Law stills in the air, pointing Kikoku at the enemy, lining up his shot.

“Injection Shot.”

A beam shoots from the tip of Kikoku and blasts into the Captain. The impacts blows the pirate backwards into the air, and he crashes into the water with a large splash as he is embraced by the sea.

Law lands on the deck of the Polar Tang and addresses the remaining enemies.

“Get off my ship unless you want the same treatment as your captain.”

The conscious enemy pirates scurry off of the Tang, pulling their fallen and unconscious comrades with them. Many jump into the sea themselves in their hurry, but most of them manage to climb back aboard their own ship before attempting to fish their captain and crew mates from the water.

Law watches as the opposing crew leaves, changing their course to sail away from the Heart Pirates and their captain’s wrath. It is only when he believes his crew safe that he pulls his eyes away from the horizon and searches for yours.

As Law’s eyes meet yours, you are met with a panic that has surely been steeping as he fought. The adrenaline from the excitement has worn off, and he takes quick steps towards you where you sit on your knees, exactly where he had teleported you earlier.

“Are you alright?” Law asks as he drops to his knees in front of you. His hands gently grab your face, turning it ever so slightly as he examines you for injury.

Your own hands reach, grabbing onto his wrists.

“I’m fine. Just a little rattled,” you assure.

You feel your lips pull into a smile, but you can’t help it because your husband is just so sweet in his concern.

Law lets out a deep breath when he determines you’re alive and well, letting his forehead dip against yours.

“Don’t do that again,” he says, which translates to I was terrified.

“I didn’t get captured and held at gunpoint on purpose,” you tease.

Law’s fingers find your side, pinching. You squeak.

“Don’t,” Law says, which translates to don’t joke about your life because the thought of you dying terrifies me.

Law does not have to say much for you to understand him—he never has—and that is one of the many reasons he has fallen head over heels for you. You understand he’s shaken up by the image of you at death’s door, and you know making light of the situation—which may help you process it—is not helping him calm down. So, you let you teasing tone fade away and replace it with a calm, sure tone.

“I promise I won’t make a habit of it. I fully intend to keep coming home to you,” you say lowly, your words meant for him and him alone.

Law nods. Then…

“Ahem,” comes a confused, potentially anxious voice. “Captain? Care to share what’s going on?”

Pulling his head away from you and looking up, Law faces his crew without standing and without letting his hands fall away from you.

“No,” he says simply.

You laugh. The Heart Pirates complain.

“No? What do you mean ‘no’? You can’t just completely obliterate some pirate captain without an explanation!” Penguin argues.

“You’re focused on the wrong thing, Penguin,” Ikkaku chimes in.

Shachi chimes in. “Captain, why did you call Y/N your wife?” He demands.

“Tch,” Law replies, offering nothing as his cheeks flush pink.

You rub your hand comfortingly up and down Law’s arm.

“Well, they know now, Sweetheart. Might as well confirm it,” you say gently.

“No.”

You giggle and you watch as the sound makes Law visibly relax.

“We’re married,” you say, looking to your crew mates.

“What?!” Someone exclaims.

“How long?!” Someone else asks.

“Hmm. When were we in the North Blue last?” You grin.

The Heart Pirates’ jaws drop, staring at you in disbelief.

“THAT WAS OVER TWO YEARS AGO!” They shout.

You just laugh, a wide smile overtaking your features.

“Tch. Stop being dramatic,” Law says simply.

“I can’t believe you kept this a secret,” whines Shachi.

“I can’t believe we weren’t invited to the wedding,” Penguin adds.

“I knew,” Bepo says.

“WHAT?!” The attention is suddenly on Bepo, whose ears flatten as he looks down at his paws, wringing them anxiously.

“Sorry,” he says.

Throughout the commotion, you return your attention to Law, who looks relieved that the attention is no longer on him. You smile gently.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair away from his face.

You only began questioning the state of your own emotions when you noticed that one of your sketchbooks was nearly full, yet didn’t contain a single drawing of anyone else from the crew.

There were still the usual everyday sketches of Law scattered throughout its pages, of course, but now they were joined by an ever-growing collection dedicated almost entirely to his tattoos.

Heat spread across your cheeks at the mere thought of wanting a better look at them. Up close. Close enough to faithfully capture every intricate line, even the ones hidden beneath his clothes.

Somewhere along the way, you’d forgotten that those pages had originally begun as anatomy studies.

Now they were filled with careful observations of the muscles in his arms and chest, how each tattoo stretched and shifted ever so slightly as he moved.

You had even asked him not to move once while trying to capture a particular angle.

“Hold still.”

Law didn’t so much as glance up from the medical journal in his hands.

“…Why?”

“Your forearm tattoo curves weirdly when you rotate your wrist.”

Too absorbed in his reading to question it, he simply extended his arm toward you without another word, letting you do… whatever it was you were doing.

It wasn’t until nearly ten minutes later that he realized you’d been staring at him the entire time.

Your mind drifted back to all the afternoons spent watching him from the opposite side of the office, your heart racing as you quietly melted at the sight of him getting irritated over paperwork that refused to add up.

Without realizing it, you had filled pages with sketches of his furrowed brows, his slightly pursed lips, the faint puff of his cheeks whenever he grew annoyed, somehow ending up with eleven different versions of that expression alone.

Then there were the shadows his eyelashes cast across his cheeks.

The subtle curve of his lips whenever a smile escaped him.

His eyes.

His eyes in every imaginable expression: irritation, concentration, curiosity, happiness.

Oh God.

I’m in love with our grumpy captain.

The doctor of the Heart Pirates found himself increasingly confused by your recent behavior.

He would never admit it aloud, but he was worried.

For the past several days, although you still spent your usual hours working beside him in the office, you had begun avoiding him whenever you could.

You still sorted mountains of paperwork as diligently as ever, only now you always wore your headphones, leaving little room for conversation. Whenever he asked you something, you’d slip one earbud out just long enough to answer before immediately putting it back in. Sometimes you didn’t even hear him the first time.

He never commented on it.

Everyone had days when silence was preferable to the noise of other people.

God knew he had more of those than anyone.

Still, your company had always been one of the few he genuinely enjoyed, and he couldn’t shake the quiet hope that perhaps tomorrow you’d be a little more willing to talk to him again.

It felt strange in other ways too.

Whenever he found enough free time to join the crew for an evening card game, you were no longer sitting beside him as his partner.

Instead of exchanging knowing smiles and whispering advice over your next move, you now found yourself across the table beside Shachi, laughing every time he stubbornly ignored your suggestions and confidently played exactly the wrong card.

A faint pang of jealousy, one he would sooner die than acknowledge, settled somewhere deep inside his chest as he caught himself glancing in your direction throughout the evening.

Across the table, Bepo seemed equally distracted, nervously darting his gaze between the two of you while absentmindedly throwing random cards onto the pile.

Law had always claimed he enjoyed card games.

The truth was, his favorite part had never been the cards.

It had simply been sitting beside you.

Faced with the alternative, he couldn’t help but admit to himself that he would’ve rather skipped the game altogether.

The following afternoon, after excusing yourself from the office for half an hour to go listen to Penguin’s newest collection of music he’d picked up on the last island, the submarine’s brooding captain remained behind to finish his paperwork.

Or rather…

He sat with his pen hovering uselessly above the page, wondering whether he’d done something over the past few days to upset you.

Perhaps he’d been too cold.

Perhaps you’d finally grown tired of trying to get through to him and decided the more entertaining members of the crew were simply better company.

Regret quietly settled over him. He should’ve asked you to go somewhere together on the next island. Just the two of you.

Now charismatic Penguin had probably charmed you with his music collection…

…and who knew when you’d come back to him…

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by an unusually cheerful polar bear entering the office with a steaming cup of green tea.

“Captain, where’s Y/N?”

“What does that have to do with me?” Law answered with mild irritation. “She can spend her time however she wants.”

After a brief pause, he muttered,

“As long as she gets back soon enough to finish this documentation, she can spend time with whoever she wants for as long as she wants.”

Bepo pretended not to hear the second half.

Still smiling to himself, he set the cup beside Law, who acknowledged it with a quiet nod of thanks.

“Hmm… Y/N really is a wonderful artist, isn’t she?”

Silence.

“As you know… she draws everyone on the crew.”

“Hm.”

“You have the most pages, though.”

“…What?”

“Not fair,” Bepo chuckled as he walked out of the office. “You’re one lucky guy.”

He left behind one thoroughly bewildered captain.

Later that day, the two of you were updating the submarine’s library. Law stood atop a ladder placing the newly acquired books onto the shelves while you handed them up one by one, carefully recording each addition.

Every so often your fingers brushed against his.

Each fleeting touch sent an unwelcome current racing through both of you, one you silently agreed to ignore. You’d pretend to examine the bookshelves with great interest while embarrassment painted your cheeks, and the tips of his ears.

This angle is really not helping my increasingly ridiculous crush, you thought, looking up at your captain from almost directly below.

From there, the sharp line of his nose seemed even more striking, and you found yourself watching the slow rise and fall of his long eyelashes.

Ridiculous.

Ridiculous.

The word echoed through your mind later as well while the two of you worked in companionable silence, cataloguing documents together.

It echoed again as your pencil unconsciously recreated those same thick eyelashes arching above serious golden eyes.

Then the tattooed heart with the smiling Jolly Roger emblazoned across his chest.

You jolted when you heard your captain calling your name, snapping your sketchbook shut almost instantly.

“Could you take these books back to the office?” he asked. “We’ll go through them properly tomorrow. Keep two or three with you and leave the rest on my desk. Then head to dinner. I’ll join you once I’m finished here.”

Still distracted, you nodded, gathering the towering stack of books into your arms.

The pile was so high you had to steady it with your chin to stop it from collapsing like a house of cards, a sight that made an unexpected wave of fondness wash over Law.

In your haste, however, you failed to notice that your sketchbook, buried beneath the stack, had slipped free and remained behind on the table as you left the library.

Once he’d finished highlighting the necessary information and sorting tomorrow’s paperwork into neat piles, Law finally prepared to head for the dining hall.

That’s when he noticed something lying on the table where you’d been sitting.

Of course.

You’d forgotten something.

He walked over and picked up the light-colored sketchbook, intending to return it the next time he saw you.

Still…

Curiosity quietly tugged at him.

Just one look.

He opened it.

A drawing of himself.

He turned the page.

Another one.

He flipped to the middle at random.

Him again.

Another page.

A detailed anatomical study of muscles.

He flipped toward the back.

A meticulous rendering of his hands.

…What the hell?

He stood there staring at the sketchbook in complete silence, so stunned that his thoughts seemed to short-circuit altogether.

More than embarrassed, he was simply… astonished.

Not because someone had documented him in such painstaking detail.

But because you had.

And not because he was the captain.

Simply because he was him.

After everyone had finished dinner, full and ready to retreat for the night before another day awaited them, Law quietly asked you to stay behind.

“I think you forgot this,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

If the earth had opened beneath your feet and swallowed you into its deepest depths, straight to the bottom of the Grand Line, you wouldn’t have protested.

You felt like you were dying.

Before you could snatch the sketchbook from his hands, he deliberately opened it to one of the more detailed portraits, the kind that made it painfully obvious you’d spent hours bringing it to life.

“You spent that much time on this?”

“…Maybe.”

Silence settled between you, and for the life of you, you couldn’t decipher what was passing behind those amber eyes.

“You got the eyes wrong.”

That…

That was not what you’d expected him to say.

“What?”

“They aren’t always that harsh. Or that distant.” His gaze lingered on the drawing for another moment. “They’re softer. Especially depending on who’s standing in front of me.”

He tried to sound casual, though the warmth creeping into his cheeks betrayed him far more effectively than his voice ever could. It was, whether he intended it or not, a confession.

“You’ll have to take another look from up close,” he continued, gently placing the sketchbook back into your hands. “You can fix it tomorrow, when we visit the next island.”

With that, he turned toward the door, wished you goodnight with the smallest of smiles, and left.

Your heart threatened to leap straight out of your chest and join the rest of his collection.

Not that you would’ve minded.

And that…

That was how it all began.

By the time the two of you were together, the quiet blooming of your relationship could be traced through your sketches alone.

Little by little, they transformed into increasingly intimate moments, the sort only someone who shared another person’s quietest hours would ever have the chance to witness.

Law lying in bed, still wearing his glasses as he read.

Law fast asleep with his head thrown back, mouth slightly open, snoring without the slightest hint of dignity.

Law first thing in the morning, hair hopelessly disheveled, not quite awake yet.

A cup of coffee slowly growing cold beside him.

Law laughing so hard he doubled over.

His head resting in your lap while insisting he was only “resting his eyes.”

Whenever his gaze happened to fall upon one of those sketches, an unfamiliar feeling quietly settled inside him.

He had expected studies.

Those had never embarrassed him. To your pencil, he’d simply been another subject worthy of observation. A body was a body, and as a doctor, he understood the fascination that came with studying the way muscles shifted beneath skin or bones dictated movement. Those were the kinds of drawings an artist made when captivated by form.

But these…

These were something else.

They reached far beyond anatomy, and that singular way you saw him unsettled him in a manner he couldn’t begin to explain.

This wasn’t merely what he looked like.

It was what you had chosen to see.

Not the captain.

Not the Surgeon of Death.

Not the man whose name people spoke in hushed voices.

Your gifted hands had filled page after page with the version of him that existed only in the quiet spaces between responsibilities, in fleeting moments rarely witnessed by anyone else.

As though those ordinary, forgettable fragments of his life possessed a beauty he had never once thought to assign them. As though simply existing beside him had been enough to make them worth remembering.

Much like every moment he spent beside you had become filled with countless little memories he knew he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

He hadn’t even realized you had been watching during those moments of quiet contentment. He’d always assumed those tiny glimpses, the rare instances when he allowed himself to truly relax, belonged to him alone. They were the sort of moments no one else would notice, let alone consider meaningful.

And yet…

There they were.

Preserved with the same tenderness another person might reserve for sunsets or constellations.

His breath caught.

The feeling blooming inside his chest was unlike anything he had ever known, something impossibly gentle brushing against his heart, as though wings had suddenly begun to unfurl from it, eager to lift it free and carry it out into the open air.

As your relationship settled into something comfortably familiar, Law gradually became the most frequent subject of your artwork, much to the dismay of certain rather jealous members of the crew, who weren’t above voicing their complaints every now and then.

“There has to be something of me in here somewhere,” Penguin muttered as he flipped through your sketchbook. “Captain… no, Law… Captain again… Captain… Ca… AAAH!”

He yelped, dropping the sketchbook in sheer panic.

It never reached the floor.

An already irritated Law caught it with one hand before it could even come close.

“Be careful.”

“I CAN’T BE CALM WHEN I JUST ACCIDENTALLY SAW TWELVE DRAWINGS OF YOUR ABS, CAPTAIN!” Penguin cried, his face turning scarlet.

He immediately yanked the brim of his hat down over his eyes as though it might erase the memory.

“I can’t believe you never drew the time I absolutely demolished that guy!” he continued dramatically. “It was legendary! A once-in-a-lifetime moment! But no! Apparently all you ever feel like immortalizing are this Surgeon of Death’s hands and ridiculously thick eyelashes.”

He stared at Law in theatrical disbelief.

“…Who knows what else I would’ve found if I’d kept turning the pages.”

Now it was your turn to blush.

“Penguin, no… I’ll draw you soon, it’s not like there’s any—”

“That’s none of your concern,” Law interrupted flatly, still holding the sketchbook securely against his chest.

“She can sketch whatever she wants.”

His golden eyes shifted toward Penguin.

“And if you’re ever that careless with her artwork again…”

A brief pause.

“…we’ll have a conversation in my office.”

Penguin visibly paled.

“…You know what? I suddenly feel very well represented already.”

Even your anatomy studies had grown more detailed.

More intimate.

By then, you could shamelessly ask him to stay perfectly still for ten minutes so you could capture the angle of the tattoo stretching across his chest. The easiest position usually involved you reclining halfway against his lap so that his torso angled ever so slightly toward you, allowing every contour of his chest, abdomen, and arms to reveal itself beneath shifting light. Every muscle found its place upon the page, every subtle ridge and hollow observed with painstaking care.

“Don’t move.”

“I’m not moving.”

“…Your breathing counts.”

He sighed.

“That also counts.”

You frowned at the page, erasing another line.

“Something’s wrong…”

Law leaned forward just enough to glance at your sketch.

“You’ve pulled the pectoralis major too far toward the sternum.”

You looked up at him.

“…Do you enjoy ruining my confidence?”

“No.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I enjoy preventing anatomical inaccuracies.”

“…That’s somehow worse.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Your tattoo work is flawless,” he said, his eyes returning to the page. “It’s just the muscle beneath it.”

“…You couldn’t have started with that?”

“You would’ve stopped listening.”

Sometimes you drew him while he was occupied with something else, and other times, simply because those quiet moments together filled you with such contentment, you found yourself sketching those beloved muscles and bones entirely from memory.

One evening, the two of you sat close together as Law leafed through a medical textbook while you frowned at a sketch of his back, trying to make sense of the broad planes shifting beneath his skin.

So absorbed were you in your work that you never noticed him leaning over your shoulder.

“The trapezius overlaps the latissimus dorsi more than that.”

You looked at him blankly.

“…Do you ever say upper back like a normal person?”

“No.”

Having long since accepted that you would never possess his encyclopedic knowledge of osteology and myology, you had resigned yourself to spending the rest of your life with one impossibly adorable, hopelessly pedantic doctor who insisted on correcting you every chance he got.

“You’re looking at the tendon, not the muscle.”

“Law.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need you to use words normal people actually know.”

He sighed, as though you had just asked the impossible.

“…The stringy bit.”

Laughter burst from you before you could stop it.

“See? You can do it.”

“That’s the flexor digitorum profundus,” he informed you knowingly.

“…Mhm.”

“You have no idea what I just said.”

“Not a clue.”

“You’re pretending to understand,” he accused, already preparing an impromptu lecture.

“I love listening to you talk.”

He froze and blinked twice.

The tips of his ears bloomed a brilliant shade of pink as something entirely incoherent escaped beneath his breath, quiet enough that you couldn’t make out the words, though they still managed to tickle something warm inside your chest.

“You sound cute when you get all professor-like.”

Watching your normally composed, reserved boyfriend become so hopelessly flustered filled you with entirely unreasonable satisfaction.

I could get used to endless medical lectures if teasing him always earns me this reaction.

After months of constant reminders about proper anatomical terminology and what felt like several medical lectures every month, though you would never admit just how much you’d secretly enjoyed them, you gradually found yourself using words that had once sounded like an entirely foreign language.

There was something undeniably attractive about having such an absurdly brilliant and beautiful boyfriend all to yourself.

The first time Law had enthusiastically begun explaining the intricacies of the human neck and casually mentioned the sternocleidomastoid, your instinctive response had been to blink at him and mutter, “Bless you.”

Now, whenever he gently corrected your drawings with the same term, you simply nodded.

“I know, I know.”

Without even looking up, you adjusted the line.

“It attaches to the mastoid process, and mine’s too straight.”

Law slowly looked up from his book.

“…I’m proud of you.”

You stared.

“…Was that a compliment?”

“I’ve given you several.”

“You’ve given me homework.”

You teased him, fully aware that countless more assignments would follow, each one secretly becoming your favorite. Every now and then he’d even reinforce those lessons in practice, tracing surprisingly gentle kisses along your neck as he pointed out precisely where each muscle and delicate bone lay beneath your skin.

You had barely blocked in the basic shapes before a familiar voice drifted over your shoulder.

“You’ve exaggerated the deltoid.”

Law had been quietly watching you work for quite some time, long enough that, for once, you had begun to believe he’d found nothing to correct.

Alas…

It had simply been too good to be true.

Without even turning around, you let out an exaggerated sigh.

“There he is.”

“What?”

“My insufferable anatomist. I was wondering how long you’d last before correcting me.”

“I lasted twelve minutes.”

“That’s a personal record.”

A quiet hum escaped him.

Almost a laugh.

“I was trying to let you finish.”

“You failed.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering beneath his breath.

“I’m only trying to help.”

You smiled despite his incurable inability to leave your drawings alone.

“I know.”

Your voice softened.

“You always do.”

Something shifted behind his eyes.

“I know how seriously you take your work.”

His voice had grown quieter now.

“I want your references to be as accurate as they deserve.”

He hesitated before adding,

“…I’ll survive even if that means you’ll keep calling me insufferable.”

He leaned forward just enough to study the page more closely, one finger hovering above the paper without touching it. He knew better than to smudge charcoal.

“The contour’s right,” he said after a moment. “It’s just the insertion that’s slightly off.”

A brief silence followed.

“…The shading’s beautiful, though.”

You blinked.

“You noticed the shading?”

“I notice everything.”

There was an almost bashful quality to his voice now.

“I’ve known you long enough to learn a thing or two myself.”

He cleared his throat.

“…Though you should still fix the deltoid. It’s exaggerated.”

“No. I made you look stronger.”

“I don’t need artistic charity.”

“No?”

“No.”

You erased the line with theatrical reluctance, grumbling under your breath.

“It looked good.”

“It looked inaccurate.”

“It looked handsome.”

The faintest blush dusted the tips of his ears.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

More often than not, Law would catch himself watching your hand move across the page, your pencil gliding with practiced confidence as it gathered fragments of him into graceful lines.

The feeling it stirred inside him remained wonderfully unfamiliar, equal parts strange and intimately warm. Somehow, in your drawings, he always appeared calmer than he’d imagined himself to be, softer around the edges, and with time he came to realize that the version of himself reflected through your eyes was the one he preferred above all others. It was the man he wished to be when you looked at him.

And perhaps that was why he found himself hoping you would never stop observing him with those endlessly hopeful eyes that seemed to hold love in every blink.

With all of that in mind, it wasn’t long before Law noticed something else.

In every drawing of the crew, whether they were gathered around the dinner table, celebrating at a festival, pelting one another with snowballs, or simply spending a quiet evening together in the lounge, one person was always missing.

You.

Not just from that sketchbook, but from every sketchbook he’d ever seen.

At most, a hand would occasionally appear, or perhaps a glimpse of your legs stretched across his lap in one of the quieter sketches of the two of you together, but you were never there as part of the crew.

He didn’t ask you about it immediately.

Instead, he continued to watch in silence, patiently waiting until the right moment presented itself.

It came while you were sketching Shachi’s birthday celebration.

Everyone was there.

Penguin and the birthday boy laughing as they clapped each other on the back.

Ikkaku and Jean Bart raising their glasses in a toast.

Bepo sprawled comfortably across the couch beside what had to be his fourth slice of cake, absentmindedly rubbing his contentedly full stomach.

The captain of the Heart Pirates sat at the far end of the sofa, wearing the faintest smile as he spoke with someone outside the frame.

The only indication of that unseen person was a pair of legs draped lazily across his lap.

“Why aren’t you ever in these?”

The question escaped him before he could stop himself.

You blinked, lowering your eyes to the drawing once again.

“What?”

“You draw every member of the crew.”

“…Yeah?”

“Except yourself.”

Your expression turned genuinely puzzled, tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve never wondered why?”

“I guess… it just feels… strange.”

You hesitated, searching for the words.

“I can see all of you. I know your faces, the way you move, the energy each of you carries. But I don’t know how I’d even draw myself. It feels awkward.”

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips.

“And I’d probably ruin the whole picture.”

“Hm.”

Law understood that feeling better than most.

The quiet estrangement of looking at yourself and finding a stranger where you ought to have felt at home. He had spent years treating his own body as little more than a vessel for a mind that never quite seemed to belong inside it, as though the two merely happened to coexist rather than truly belong to one another.

So he carried your confession with him long after the conversation had ended, already wondering how he might one day convince you to see yourself with the same tenderness you so effortlessly gave everyone else.

It had been the end of one of those wonderfully uneventful days, the kind that settled over the submarine just before setting sail from another island the following morning.

The two of you had spent the evening tucked away in your room, reading, dozing, and quietly enjoying one another’s company.

Your head rested comfortably in his lap, your eyes closed in contentment as the long, deft fingers of one hand lazily combed through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. With the other, he absentmindedly flipped through the latest pages of your sketchbook.

More than once, his eyes lingered over the confident strokes of your pencil, quietly admiring the remarkable skill behind them. It filled him with a strange sense of pride to know that the same hands capable of holding their own in brutal pirate battles could also create something so delicate, so patient, so impossibly beautiful.

Then his breathing caught.

He had reached another sketch of himself.

He was lying curled against you, his head resting on your shoulder, lips slightly parted in deep, peaceful sleep while the brim of his hat had slipped low enough to shade his eyes.

Of you, only fragments remained.

The curve of a shoulder.

A curtain of hair cascading over it.

The soft folds of your sweater.

He noticed immediately that the drawing hadn’t been finished. The shading remained incomplete, certain details lacked the refinement so characteristic of your work.

Had you been fully awake, you probably never would’ve let him see something unfinished.

But that wasn’t what held his attention.

Near the bottom of the page, written in your careful handwriting so small it might easily have gone unnoticed, were three simple words.

My favorite view.

It was almost unbelievable that three ordinary words could settle so deeply beneath his ribs, finding a place he had long believed incapable of holding this kind of warmth.

As though, without ever searching for it, he had stumbled upon the final dream his soul had been quietly waiting for all along.

It wasn’t the sketch itself that moved him.

It was the realization that someone had looked upon one of his most unguarded, most ordinary moments and found it worthy of preserving.

Worthy of calling beautiful.

Worthy of returning to again and again.

For as long as he could remember, Law had believed love always demanded something in return. That it had to be earned, repaid, or would inevitably be lost.

And yet, within every careful line you had drawn and every shadow you had patiently built, there had been nothing except a quiet admiration for the man he was when he wasn’t trying to be anything more than himself.

For the first time in his life, it occurred to him that perhaps it truly was possible to be loved not for what you chose to show the world, nor in spite of everything you carried within you…

…but simply for who you were.

Perhaps…

Perhaps this was happiness.

Not the loud, fleeting kind he’d always assumed belonged to somebody else, but the quiet sort that slipped beneath your skin unnoticed until, before you realized it, all you wanted was for the moment to linger a little longer.

He didn’t know how to put any of it into words.

Instead, his fingertips drifted slowly across the paper, careful enough that one might have thought he feared smudging the graphite with a single careless touch. He traced those lines for longer than he needed to before gently closing the sketchbook.

Then he drew you closer.

Burying his face in your hair as though it were the safest place in the world, he pressed countless quiet kisses against your forehead and the crown of your head, holding you with a tenderness that said everything he could not.

Basking beneath the golden light of the setting sun in a meadow on the newest island you’d docked at, you and Law had quietly slipped away from the rest of the crew, content to spend the afternoon wrapped up in one another.

Reclining in the grass, you watched clouds drift lazily overhead, you pointing out the shapes they formed while your ever-skeptical boyfriend dismissed each one with an amused scoff, the two of you talking about nothing in particular.

After a while, Law reached into the backpack he’d thoughtfully brought along for your little excursion away from the submarine and pulled something out.

It was the sketchbook you’d been searching for days, the one you’d eventually given up on finding and replaced with a new one before you had the chance to finish it.

“Where did you find it?” you asked, eyes widening as you instinctively reached for it.

Instead of handing it over, Law shifted a little closer, gently guiding you back until you were sitting comfortably between his legs. Then he opened the sketchbook to its final pages.

There, spread across a single sheet, was someone who looked remarkably like you.

You were lying on your stomach atop the bed, surrounded by towering piles of books. The books themselves had been drawn with stiff, ruler-straight lines, yet each one had been filled with painstaking, almost childlike details, right down to your favorite titles and editions. You rested against the fluffy white blanket he’d done his earnest best to capture, your hair spilling loosely around you in delightfully unruly strands, your smile warm and just a little crooked, every tooth nearly the same size. He had even attempted shading, and truthfully, it wasn’t bad at all.

Ever the meticulous man, the Captain of the Heart Pirates had even placed his familiar spotted hat beside you at the corner of the bed.

You stared at the page, speechless, as warmth stung unexpectedly behind your eyes.

“…There was one person missing,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may not be very good at this, but…”

He never got to finish.

You threw your arms around him so suddenly that you nearly knocked him onto his back.

He let out a quiet, startled, “Mm…”

“It’s beautiful! Thank you so much,” you said, your voice thick with emotion as you peppered his cheeks and the corner of his lips with grateful kisses, leaving him blushing a deep shade of red. “You’re actually not bad at this. We might have to become colleagues.”

A quiet laugh escaped through his nose.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed.

“It’s perfect.”

“It objectively isn’t.”

“It is.”

“The perspective’s wrong.”

“I don’t care.”

“My line weight is inconsistent.”

“I don’t care.”

“The left eye…”

You kissed him again, effectively silencing yet another critique before it had the chance to escape.

You couldn’t help imagining him, a man who had never been blessed with an artist’s hand, sitting down with nothing more than a pencil anyway, enduring every crooked line and every failed attempt simply because, somewhere along the way, he’d decided you deserved to be seen. To be remembered. To see yourself through his eyes.

No one had ever loved you so deliberately.

And in that moment, you silently promised yourself that you would never let that happiness slip away from your heart.

It was well past midnight by the time you began teaching him how to draw hands.

You gently turned his wrist.

“Loosen your grip on the pencil.”

“Like this?”

“A little.”

You nudged his fingers into place.

“You’re holding it like you’re about to perform surgery.”

“…Old habits.”

As everyone aboard the Polar Tang already knew, drawing hands had long since become second nature to you. While you carefully sketched Law’s hand, he concentrated on drawing yours.

On the same sheet of paper rested two intertwined hands.

One was long and slender, tattooed from wrist to fingers, its elegant bones subtly visible beneath the skin as the thumb traced a gentle caress across the other.

The second was smaller, the fingers a little stiff, the nail beds broader than he had initially managed to capture. Fortunately, under your patient guidance, it changed shape minute by minute until it became something that felt perfect to the two of you, even if any self-proclaimed art critic, whose opinion neither of you had asked for in the first place, would’ve called it an awkward collision of two entirely different styles.

The finished page found its place in a frame on your bedside table before the two of you drifted off to sleep, laughter still lingering softly between you in the darkness.

He caught your hand and pulled you free. His palm was warm. The white marks of his illness crossed the back of it.

You looked down at your joined hands.

Law immediately frowned. “You walk too slowly.”

He continued toward the harbor without releasing you.

You followed more easily now.

Law led you away from the busiest part of the harbor and toward the roof of an old warehouse overlooking the sea.

He climbed up first.

You remained below, waiting.

Law looked at you.

“You wanted me to come,” you reminded him.

He sighed as if helping you required more patience than he possessed, but he reached down.

Once you were seated, he let go. The absence of his hand felt immediate.

“You can hold it again.”

“No.”

“You were holding it before.”

“So you wouldn’t get lost.”

You smiled, and Law turned his attention toward the harbor before you could see whether he was trying not to do the same.

For a while, you sat quietly. Law stared at the ships with an intensity that made you wonder whether he was memorizing them.

“What are you looking at?” you asked.

“The ships. I’m choosing one.”

“For what?”

“For when I leave.”

The words made you look at him.

Law spoke often about death. He rarely spoke about leaving as though it were something that might truly happen.

“Which one?”

He pointed toward a black-hulled vessel near the far end of the harbor.

“That one.”

You studied it seriously. “It’s ugly.”

“It doesn’t matter what it looks like.”

“It will if we have to live on it.”

Law went still.

You pretended not to notice.

“We?”

“You said you were leaving.”

“I didn’t say you were coming.”

“You came to get me.”

“I wanted to show you the harbor.”

“Why?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it.

You waited.

Law rarely lacked an answer. When he did, he usually became angry at whoever had caused it.

You placed your hand over his before he could pull it away.

“What would we do?” you asked. He looked down at your fingers resting across his.

“We’d be pirates.”

“You’d be captain?”

“Obviously.”

“I don’t think you’d be very good at it.”

Law stared at you. “Then you can stay here.”

You tightened your hold on his hand.

“I’ll be the navigator.”

“You don’t know how to navigate.”

“I’ll learn.”

You leaned against his shoulder.

His body stiffened at first. Law had not yet learned what to do when someone touched him without trying to restrain or examine him.

After a few moments, he allowed your weight to remain against him.

The harbor stretched below you. Beyond it waited a world neither of you knew, but it was easier to imagine facing it together than alone.

“We’ll need somewhere to live when we aren’t sailing,” you decided.

“We’ll live on the ship.”

“I want a house.”

“I don’t.”

“You can have your own room.”

Law considered that.

“With a lock.”

“You can have two locks.”

You smiled against his shoulder. The future became easier once it had rooms.

You decided the house would stand somewhere near the sea so you could still hear the water at night. Law insisted it should be far from other people.

You did not yet understand that Doflamingo never raised anyone so they could eventually leave him.

Law turned his hand beneath yours. When your palms settled together, he looked back toward the sea.

“If I’m still alive,” he said, “we’ll find somewhere.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder.

“When you’re still alive.”

Law’s expression sharpened, but you did not look away.

For once, he did not argue.

“All right,” he said after a while. “When.”

That afternoon became the first of many.

Sometimes you held hands. Sometimes you sat with your shoulders pressed together and pretended not to notice. When Law’s illness worsened, he rested his head in your lap and complained if your fingers stopped moving through his hair.

The plans grew with you.

The black ship became a yellow submarine after Law saw a drawing of one in a book.

The house changed islands several times. You wanted flowers near the windows. Law said they would attract insects.

He began to speak less often about dying.

He started telling you about operations he wanted to perform and illnesses he intended to cure. You listened even when you understood little of what he said, pleased simply because he had begun imagining years that did not end with his own death.

You never formally promised yourselves to one another.

You were children, and your love existed in smaller things: the food you saved for him, the space he kept beside him at meals, and the future neither of you could imagine without placing the other somewhere inside it.

Then Corazon took him away.

For months, you continued to make room for Law as though he might return. The months became years before Doflamingo finally placed proof of Law’s survival in your hands.

He showed you a report describing a young pirate captain known as the Surgeon of Death.

The relief nearly brought you to your knees.

You read every word.

Law had survived. He had found a cure. He had built a crew and sailed beneath his own flag.

The future you had planned was happening.

Only you were not part of it.

More reports followed over the years. Doflamingo never hid them from you. He made certain you heard when Law’s name began carrying weight in the North Blue, when the Heart Pirates became known on the Grand Line, and when Law took a place among the Seven Warlords.

Every achievement proved he had lived.

Every year taught you that he was living without you.

The waiting did not end all at once.

It wore away.

By the time Law came to Dressrosa, you had learned how to build your life around the place where hope had once been.

—————————————

Law saw you again on Green Bit.

He had spent years imagining what might have happened after he disappeared. In the gentler versions, you had escaped. In the darker ones, Doflamingo had killed you after learning how close you had been to Corazon and Law.

He had never imagined you standing at Doflamingo’s side.

Law recognized you before he allowed himself to believe it. Your eyes met his through the confusion.

For one suspended moment, the years between you disappeared. Then Doflamingo spoke your name, and you turned toward him.

The ease with which you obeyed wounded Law.

There was no time to confront you. Green Bit collapsed into violence. Fujitora moved against him, Doflamingo closed in, and Law escaped with Caesar before either man could take him.

He told himself he had mistaken what he saw in your face. Then the Den Den Mushi inside his coat rang.

Law stopped beneath the trees.

Caesar stumbled behind him and began demanding to know why they were no longer moving, but Law barely heard him.

The snail’s features changed when he answered. Its mouth took on the familiar shape of yours.

“Law.”

Law looked back through the trees. Doflamingo was somewhere behind him, and there was little time before he caught up.

You told him that the route directly toward the bridge had already been watched. There was another way, narrow enough to hide movement from the men Doflamingo had positioned ahead. It would bring Law close to the shore, where the Sunny could retrieve Caesar.

Law listened without interrupting.

When you finished, he asked, “Why?”

“Because I knew you would come back someday.”

The call ended.

Caesar stared at him. “That woman works for Joker.”

Law placed the receiver inside his coat.

“Yes.”

“And you intend to believe her?”

“No.”

He turned toward the route you had described.

“But I intend to find out why she wants me there.”

The passage existed exactly where you said it would.

The guards stationed near its entrance were unconscious but alive. Law inspected them long enough to determine that they had been struck cleanly and recently. Whoever had cleared the way knew how to disable Doflamingo’s men without raising an alarm.

He moved Caesar through the narrow route and reached the shoreline as the Sunny approached.

The exchange happened quickly.

Law waited until the Sunny was safely beyond the immediate reach of Doflamingo’s strings.

Then he heard footsteps behind him. You emerged from beneath the iron bridge.

Alone.

For several seconds, neither of you spoke.

Law had imagined this reunion too many times to know what he had expected from it.

You stopped several feet from him.

“You kept the hat,” you said.

His hand rose toward the brim before he could stop it.

Law looked at you fully for the first time. He noticed the faint scar near your temple and another along the edge of your jaw.

“You cleared the passage,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Doflamingo knows?”

“Not yet.”

“And when he does?”

Your eyes moved briefly toward the bridge. “He’ll be angry.”

“You say that like it doesn’t frighten you.”

“It does.”

The honesty softened something in him.

Law had expected denial, or the blind loyalty of another officer who had spent too long beneath Doflamingo’s control. Instead, you stood before him with fear visible in your face.

He took one step closer.

You did not move away.

“I thought you were dead,” he said.

Your expression changed.

“Did you?”

“More than once.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I can see that.”

A faint smile touched your mouth. It was small and tired, but it was yours.

Law felt the years fold inward.

He could almost see the child who had once sat beside him at the harbor, insisting their ship could not be ugly because she would be forced to look at it every day.

“You look different,” you said.

“So do you.”

“I meant the tattoos.”

Law glanced down at his hands. “You hate them?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“You never liked anything I chose.”

“That isn’t true. I liked the submarine.”

“You said it looked like a sick whale.”

“It did.”

Law laughed before he could prevent it.

The sound surprised both of you.

Your smile widened slightly, and for a moment the reunion became something neither of you had expected it could be.

Law closed the remaining distance between you.

He lifted his hand slowly, giving you time to move. When you remained still, he touched the side of your face.

Your eyes closed.

The gesture carried the weight of every touch denied to you both by time. Law’s thumb moved along the scar near your jaw. You leaned into his palm, and he felt your breath leave you unsteadily.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Your hand rose and closed around his wrist.

“I used to wonder what I would say when I saw you.”

“And?”

“I thought I would be angrier.”

You opened your eyes.

He expected bitterness. Instead, he saw grief softened by something he had not allowed himself to hope still existed.

“I missed you,” you said.

The words entered him quietly. Law lowered his forehead against yours.

“I missed you too,” he admitted.

“You built the crew,” you whispered.

He understood immediately.

Part of the future you had planned together had survived.

Law nodded. “Yes.”

“And the house?”

You tried to make the question sound light, but he heard the old dream beneath it.

“I never found the right island.”

“No?”

“I stopped looking.”

Your gaze lowered.

Law moved his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, not allowing you to retreat into the loss.

“We could look again,” he said.

You went still.

The words felt reckless as soon as he spoke them, but Law did not take them back.

He had spent thirteen years preparing himself to destroy Doflamingo. He had not prepared for the possibility that something might remain afterward.

Now you stood before him, alive and frightened and close enough to touch.

The future rose between you again with the ease of something that had never entirely died.

“You don’t know who I am now,” you said.

“I know enough.”

Your eyes searched his face.

His hand slid from your neck until his fingers found yours. You looked down as he laced them together.

“Come with me,” he said.

Your fingers closed around his.

For one heartbeat, Law believed you would. Then the iron bridge shuddered above them.

You looked up sharply.

Doflamingo landed at the far end of the bridge. His pink coat settled across his shoulders as he straightened.

His smile was visible even from a distance.

Law released your hand and reached for Kikoku.

You stepped behind him.

Doflamingo’s gaze moved between the two of you before settling on your joined shadows across the stone.

“Touching,” he called.

Law drew his sword.

“Stay behind me.”

Your hand caught the back of his coat.

Law glanced over his shoulder.

Fear had returned to your face.

“Law—”

“I’m getting you out.”

Doflamingo began walking toward them.

His pace was unhurried.

Threads appeared around your wrists before Law saw his hand move. They pulled your arms sharply behind you, drawing a cry from your throat.

Law turned.

More strings tightened around your body and dragged you away.

Doflamingo stopped several yards ahead, holding you between them.

A thread pressed across your throat.

“Doffy,” you gasped.

Doflamingo tilted his head. “You’ve been busy.”

Law opened a Room.

The strain cut through his already exhausted body, but he ignored it. He switched places with a section of broken railing and appeared beside you, severing the strings around your throat before they could cut deeper.

Doflamingo attacked immediately.

Law blocked the first kick with Kikoku, but the impact forced him several feet backward. The fight moved onto the bridge.

Doflamingo’s next attack carried him past Law, leaving the Dressrosa end of the bridge briefly clear. Law widened his Room toward the city.

You remained near the center of the bridge, wrists bound and blood visible along your throat.

He could return once he had recovered enough to fight properly.

Then the strings around your throat tightened.

Your face twisted in pain.

Law abandoned the escape.

He moved to you instead. He cut through the threads around your wrists and caught you before you fell forward.

“I have you,” he said. Your hands closed against his coat.

Law turned his body between you and Doflamingo.

You looked up at him.

His face was close to yours, exhausted and determined. He had given up his clearest chance to escape because you were still somewhere behind him in every future he imagined.

You touched his cheek. The tenderness of it held him still.

“I did want to go,” you said.

Your thumb moved beneath his eye.

“I would have followed you anywhere.”

Something in your voice warned him.

Before Law could understand it, your other hand moved between you. The blade hidden inside your sleeve entered beneath his ribs.

Law looked down at the knife.

Your hand trembled around the hilt.

Then he looked at you.

The blood along your throat came from a shallow, deliberate cut. The strings had restrained you, but never tightly enough to hurt you.

Law’s breathing stopped for one stunned second.

“I wanted the ship. I wanted the house. I wanted everything we said we would have.”

Your eyes filled, though no tears fell.

Law pressed one hand around your wrist, but he did not force the knife away.

“You still can.”

Your face broke then.

Not entirely. Only enough for him to see the child who had waited inside you until waiting became unbearable.

“No,” you whispered. “That future belonged to the girl who was left behind.”

You pulled the blade free.

Doflamingo struck Law from behind. The force sent him across the bridge.

By the time they reached the street outside the Colosseum, Law fell onto the stone.

Doflamingo approached slowly.

You stopped beside him.

Law looked first at your hand. His blood remained across your fingers.

Then his gaze lifted to your face.

The tenderness from the bridge had disappeared behind the composure of a Donquixote officer, but Law knew now how easily you could summon the person he remembered.

That had been the sharpest part of the weapon.

Doflamingo followed his stare and laughed.

Law attempted to push himself upright. Doflamingo placed one foot against his injured shoulder and forced him down again.

“She waited longer than I expected,” he said. “That stubborn little dream of yours survived nearly everything.”

Law’s fingers pressed against the stone.

“But dreams become tedious when only one person continues believing in them.”

Law looked at you.

Doflamingo’s grin widened.

“I gave her something real.”

The claim was vile in its certainty.

Law’s expression hardened, but Doflamingo did not allow him to answer.

“She became one of my finest officers. She learned how to negotiate, how to kill, and how to recognize weakness.”

His hand slid slowly along your side.

Law’s gaze dropped to Doflamingo’s hand and then returned to your face.

Doflamingo laughed softly.

“She’s mine, Law. She serves at my table, sleeps in my bed, and returns to me every time I send her away.”

His fingers pressed possessively into your waist.

You stood motionless beside him.

Law searched your face for resistance.

He found pain.

He found shame.

He found no denial.

The silence hurt more than anything Doflamingo could have described.

Doflamingo drew his pistol.

“Doffy.”

He glanced at you.

For the first time, uncertainty broke through your composure. Doflamingo studied it and then looked back at Law.

He laughed.

“You see?” he said. “Some attachments take longer to kill than others.”

He lifted the weapon.

Law did not look at him. He looked only at you.

“You could still come with me.”

Your breath caught.

Doflamingo’s posture changed beside you, but Law continued before he could speak.

“I meant what I said on the bridge.”

Your eyes glistened.

“We can find the island,” Law said.

The future opened one last time. Doflamingo’s hand settled at the back of your neck.

The weight of it was familiar.

You forced yourself not to look away.

The pistol fired.

The first shot struck Law and drove him back against the stone.

You flinched.

Doflamingo fired again.

Then a third time.

The sound echoed through the street and left the world unnaturally quiet behind it.

Law lay still.

Smoke rose from the barrel of the pistol.

Doflamingo lowered the weapon.

His attention shifted to you.

“You hesitated.”

“But I stayed,” you said.

Doflamingo touched your chin and turned your face toward him.

“You always do.”

He kissed your forehead.

As Doflamingo guided you away, you looked back once. Law lay where he had fallen, one hand open against the stone.

You remembered that hand smaller, warm around yours as he led you through a crowded street.

You turned toward the palace.

The house by the sea had never existed.

˖᯽ ݁˖𖦹‧₊˚ ┊Taglist 𔘓

When the moon was new and the clouds were low, the seas became dreadfully dark. Not a single mark could be seen, not even your own hand before your face. In such inky blackness, the mind starts to conjure up sounds, images, sensations. Colors flickering in front of your corneas that are not there, whispers of words floating through your ears that send chills up your spine. Fingers clenching against the cold metal of the guard rail before you and the sting of salt from the ocean in your nose kept you grounded, but only by so much. You were shivering in your sleepwear, the cold night air not even stirred by a breeze. Everything around you was still, save for your racing heartbeat and thoughts swirling through your head.

Another night terror had awoken you. You thrashed in your bunk, tangling yourself in the sheets and rattling the metal frame around you until you knocked your head against the wall, consciousness snapping into you and your eyes ripping open, frazzled and delirious and aching all over. An aggravated grunt came from above you, and a tired, "Shh" was hushed across from you as your fellow crew mates expressed their annoyance. You hadn't meant it, but it had been the fourth time this week.

You stood from your bed, barefoot, and departed from the bunk room, down the icy paneled hallways of the submersible you resided in, your form eclipsing the lights lining the path and bouncing dark shadows across the walls. You climbed up through two flights of ladder wells and briskly moved towards the exit door on the bow. The vessel had surfaced for the night. Opening the hatch door left you even more in the dark than you were inside the submarine, but you blindly stepped across the wooden outer deck, floor still damp from the underwater voyage, until your torso bumped the guard rail. Fingers clenched the beam.

And there you stood. Surrounded by absolutely nothing.

You inhaled slowly through your nose, the salty air leaving a faint taste on the back of your tongue, bitter and wet, yet still familiar enough to bring you a minor sense of comfort.

The sound of the hatch door opening behind you caused you to jump, whipping your head around to where the light from an electric torch was beaming directly at you, surrounding you in a bright yellow glow. You squinted your eyes and held your hand up, just barely making out the silhouette of a man in the doorway.

"What are you doing out here?" he spoke, angling the light away from your face.

Captain Trafalgar Law.

You swallowed, anxiety creeping into your chest, thick and tight.

"I had a bad dream," you uttered. The claim sounded so juvenile spoken out loud, you couldn't help but stifle a cringe. "Did you... need me?"

Law closed the door behind him as he too paced across the wooden deck, though at least he was wearing shoes. His torch was angled toward the ground. "No. I just didn't think you'd be out here, too."

You couldn't help but feel a twist of disappointment at his dismissive words, but nevertheless, Law took a spot directly next to you, shining his light out over the ocean. It didn't reach very far, but cut just enough through the deep darkness that you were finally able to see ripples of the water's current, calming and deliberate. You wondered what sort of lifeforms swam below you, untouched by your grievances, unbothered by the swirling waves. You wondered if their lives were easier than your's, more simple.

"Should I talk to the crew about making these guard rails taller?" he suddenly asked.

You turned to look at him, one of your eyebrows lifting in confusion. "What?"

Law seemed to gulp. "You weren't... thinking of jumping over, were you?"

You gazed wide-eyed at your captain. But then again, he was out here with you as well. With a quiet voice, you asked, "... Were you?"

The man dropped his head. You followed suit, gazing at your hands draped over the railing now that you could actually see them properly. You had bruised your thumbnail when working on repairing a section of the hull a week prior, and the dark black and blue splotch was still healing as your nail continued to grow. You rubbed the spot with your index finger.

"I heard from Ikkaku that you've been having nightmares frequently," Law suddenly stated. "She said it's been waking up the rest of the crew."

Blood rushed to your face in shame. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," the man stated. "You can't stop that sort of thing. But if it's getting to the point where it's keeping you up, affecting your work, or just..." He trailed off. He took a deep breath. "You can talk to someone."

You looked at Law from the corner of your eye. His head was down, his black hair tousled as if he had also just come from bed. The hoodie he was wearing was crumpled and unwashed.

"Law, why did you come out here?" you suddenly asked.

You could hear the breath he drew into his lungs. The hand holding the torch clenched. "I also had a nightmare. Snapped me right up."

Your shoulders slumped. "Fourth one this week?"

Law hummed, a dry, weak sound. "Something like that."

"You can talk to someone, too, you know," you mused, your voice low.

The man's golden eyes darted toward you, but you stayed gazing out at the open ocean in front of you. Clouds were still low on the horizon, and you truly weren't staring at anything at all. But he could see the weariness in your face, bags under your eyes and lips downturned. You looked like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, hunched and heavy, as if you could collapse at any moment. He wanted to be ready to catch you.

"What do you dream about?" he asked, cautiously.

You shifted your weight on your feet. "I dream about the man I was with before I joined your crew. The things he would do to me and say to me, the lies he would make me believe about myself. I can still feel his hands on me, and I hear his voice in my head. Even in my dreams it hurts like hell." You shook your head slowly, as if trying to keep the vivid images from flooding your mind like a torrent. Being awake was the only reprieve you got from your vivid memories.

Law felt his stomach churn in deep understanding. Trauma was one hell of an experience. "I dream about my family... my illness... my savior. Sometimes I can still smell smoke even when I'm wide awake. I hear their screams and cries when I close my eyes, see blood in the snow, feel the canvas blanket around my shoulders."

"I'm so sorry, Law," you murmured.

"I'm sorry, too," he whispered back.

Quiet surrounded the two of you yet again, a cold shiver causing you to convulse. Without a word, Law lowered the flashlight to the floor, pulled down the zipper of his hoodie, and draped the fabric around your shoulders. It smelled like musk, like wood and oil, but it smelled like him. It felt like a cliche you'd read in a fairytale, but you accepted the gesture without question, letting the fabric embrace you and shield you from the dark.

"There's not much I can say that can make you feel better," he mused, picking the torch back up. "But I'm happy to have you on my crew. No matter what happens. You will always have a home here. You're protected."

You smiled up at him, a small grin of profound admiration that warmed Law's very soul. "Even that was enough to make me feel better." You exhaled softly. You wanted to say so many things back to him. You wanted to thank him from the bottom of your heart for giving you a home, a new lease on life. For offering you protection, work, a new family, or never ending adventures. You wanted to pour your heart out for him, offer it to him to be his forever. But now wasn't the time for that. You weren't sure when it would be.

For now, you were content with lightly leaning your temple against his arm and closing your eyes, hoping that your silent sentiments would somehow reach his own weary mind.

thursday arrives quickly. it's a beautiful day outside, with the sun shining and birds chirping and the ominous feeling of change lingering in the air. your last class ends late so that you end up running late to meet law.

it's your last few weeks of classes before you start writing your undergrad thesis. as you rush out of the building, you find yourself almost glad that your professor kept you longer, because at least that prevents you from having too much time to overthink what you're going to say to law once you see him. unfortunately, your brain already had more than enough time to do just that when you were trying to sleep last night, but that's a different story.

the air is gradually starting to warm up from winter and you notice the first trees beginning to blossom on your way over to nami's café. of course, she was delighted when she learned that her small cozy space was where you're meeting law, already plotting ways to overhear your conversation. until she realized that she would be out of town today, visiting her sister. you didn't dare tell her that you already knew that when you agreed to meet law there. otherwise you definitely would have suggested going somewhere else.

nami is a couple years older than you and moved here to open a café with her girlfriend. she had been looking for an opportunity for a while, so when the previous owner had to close down, she bought the place from him and gave it a makeover. now she runs the café with a sense for business that would make any finance major shudder. her girlfriend vivi, with her friendly and down to earth attitude, balances her out perfectly. it's obvious who does most of the customer service, even though nami insists on running the register whenever she can.

you half expect law not to be there when you show up ten minutes late, but as you round the corner you can already spot his tall silhouette standing by the entrance, right below the sign reading 'cat café'. he has his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, messy dark hair curling in the wind. you slightly pick up your pace when he spots you.

"hey", you greet him, a little out of breath.

law's face stays blank. "hi."

you shift on your feet. "sorry for running late."

"it's fine."

"wanna go inside?", you ask motioning to the door.

law doesn't respond, but he silently follows you through the glass door into the café.

you quickly scan the room for a seat. it's not too crowded, rush hour usually ends after most people have grabbed their morning drinks. there's only a few students curled up behind their laptops and a group of girls chatting in a corner.

you make your way over to your favourite table located right by the window. law keeps his jacket on when he sits down across from you, his gaze traveling over your surroundings.

without your consent your eyes glue themselves to his face and you realize that this is the first good look you're getting at him. the dark alley you saw him in last week didn't really allow for a closer examination of how his features have changed, and neither did watching him perform on stage.

law looks different. you were, in fact, right about the eyebrow piercing, the small golden hoop peeking out through dark strands of hair that have fallen in front of his face. he wears his hair a little longer now and you can't help but notice the way it compliments his high cheekbones. his straight nose, the sharpness of his jaw, it all comes together quite nicely. you catch yourself wondering if he's always been this handsome.

as you drag your eyes back up his face, you're suddenly met with law's golden ones staring right back at you, catching you in your careful observations of his facial structure. a hint of embarrassment creeps up your neck. you're not sure if he can tell, but if he does, then at least he doesn't mention it.

"where are the cats?", he asks instead.

"sorry?"

law lets his gaze wander around the room again. you try not to think about how the last time he was here, this was still an entirely different place.

"aren't there supposed to be cats in a cat café?"

letting out a breath you didn't notice you were holding, you chuckle quietly.

"i guess so. don't ask nami about it, she gets really defensive about this for some reason."

funnily enough, law is not the first person it occurred to, that the name 'cat café' would usually imply having cats around. whenever you witness people bringing up this detail to the red-haired owner, nami shuts them down immediately with an irritated 'so what?'.

she insists that it has nothing to do with the fact that her co-owner, and girlfriend, is terribly allergic to cats, which is a detail nami might have forgotten about when she registered the name. you're pretty sure she had already picked out the cats she was planning to adopt, when she realized that her idea was not going to work with vivi there.

"you know the owner?"

"oh, yes, she's my friend."

law blinks.

"she's not here today", you quickly add, scared that he might think you just agreed to come here to show him off to your new friends.

he simply nods. so much for small talk.

as you're contemplating the best way to break the oncoming silence, vivi suddenly appears next to you.

"hi there, good to see you, what can i get for you today?", she smiles and you silently thank her for saving you from whatever this moment was.

"hi vivi", you smile back gratefully. "i'll just have a cup of green tea."

she nods and looks at law.

"a black coffee, please."

"coming right up", vivi confirms before walking back over to the counter.

"is she your friend too?", law asks.

you shake your head. "not really. we get along, but i don't know her that well."

he only hums in response.

you rack your brain for something to say, preferably something that doesn't sound like 'so what have you been up to for the past three years?', because first of all, that's an incredibly lame thing to ask someone, and second of all, it's not like you don't already know the answer. you haven't exactly been keeping tabs on law's band, but you'd be lying if you said that you didn't hear about the milestones they've reached. of course you know about the record they put out, the sold out shows, and that music video that went viral six months ago. it's not like you've been living under a rock.

coming up with an appropriate conversation starter only becomes harder when you remember that you still have no idea why law asked to see you in the first place, or if he really just didn't want to be rude when you talked after the show. you don't want to rope him into a conversation he's not even interested in.

the silence between you drags out uncomfortably, even when vivi comes back and sets your drinks down in front of you. uncertain of what to do, you search his face for any kind of signal, while law simply stares down at the table. when he finally looks up and your eyes meet, you can't help but let out an awkward chuckle.

"this is weird", you say truthfully.

law seems immediately grateful that you've broken the silence. you watch his tense shoulders drop slightly as he lets out the tiniest chuckle as well. it's more of an exhale, honestly.

"it really is", law agrees.

a few seconds pass by before he speaks again.

"fuck", he sighs. "i don't really know what to say."

you give him a sympathetic look. "yeah, me too."

law runs a hand through his hair.

"thanks for, uh, coming to the show last week."

he looks so uneasy when he says it, that you almost get the impression he's embarrassed about you having been there.

"sure", you say uncertainly. "i hope that was okay."

his eyes snap up to yours.

"of course", he says a little to quickly, before clearing his throat. "you're always welcome, i mean."

you smile. "thanks. i'll keep that in mind then."

law spends a moment examining his hands, seemingly lost in thought.

"actually, i was wondering", he seems almost shy when he peeks back up at you. "are you still into photography?"

"yeah, sure." you tilt your head to the side in thought. "i don't have as much time for it as i used to, but i dabble."

"you still got the vintage camera my dad got you?"

a smile appears on your lips at the memory. you've always been passionate about photography. it had been your fifteenth birthday when law's father approached you with his old digital camera. even back then, you knew that it was probably worth a fortune, but he just casually handed it to you, insisting that it was better off with someone who would actually use it. to this day it's one of your most treasured possessions.

"of course", you say.

then you playfully narrow your eyes at him.

"don't tell me you want it back now", you joke and watch in amusement as law's eyes widen and he holds up his hands defensively.

"what? no! i would never ask that of you. it was never even mine, it was-", he interrupts himself when you break out into quiet laughter. a strained sigh escapes him.

"very funny", he deadpans.

"the look on your face", you chuckle. "you were panicking!"

"no, i wasn't", law lies while running a hand down his face, but you don't miss the way his mouth quirks up at the corners.

you can feel the tension drain out of the room a little bit as the two of you share the first minute that feels lighthearted ever since you sat down together. it's a lot nicer than you expected. you're not sure if that should scare you.

the moment dissolves when law clears his throat.

"would you like to come out to another show and take photos?"

his question takes you completely by surprise. "are you offering me a job?"

"kind of."

you watch his eyes drift from yours to the table and back to you.

"you don't have to say yes."

unsure of what to say, law's words circling around your head, you lean back in your chair. is that why he wanted to meet up with you? to hire you as his band's photographer?

it's not exactly like you would mind the extra cash. in all honesty, you could really use it, and a job as a concert photographer doesn't sound half bad. it just feels very random. why you? don't they have their own photographer? you've seen the pictures on their socials and you didn't exactly get the impression that they're in need of someone new.

on the other side, who cares? like hell you're going to turn down an offer to make money off of your passion. you've never taken concert photos before. it would be a great challenge to work on your skills. the lighting must be very different from what you usually work with.

with your best cheeky grin in place, you lift your chin up. "well, what's the pay?"

there's something that's almost a smile playing at law's lips when he realizes that you're accepting his offer.

"i'll have our manager text you the details."

he already has his phone out, when suddenly he looks back up at you.

"you don't mind if we use your photos for promotion, right?"

you shake your head distractedly, already considering which lenses would be best for concert lighting, when it hits you.

promotion. like on social media?

you internally cringe as you're hit with a flashback of your little accident from last week's stalking session. you had almost forgotten about that. should you mention it to him?

hesitantly, you glance up at law who's tapping away at his phone again texting his manager.

you really don't want him to think that you've been stalking him. or worse, that you're some kind of obsessed fangirl. maybe this is why he invited you to be their photographer? maybe he felt bad for you, because you used to be friends. god, that would be embarrassing.

you nip at your tea before clearing your throat.

"by the way", you shift in your seat uncomfortably as law finally looks up from his phone. "i wasn't stalking you or anything."

law eyes you quizzically.

"when i liked that photo of you last week", you awkwardly clarify, trying and absolutely failing to sound casual.

suddenly, the table seems very interesting.

"i was just curious to see what you've been up to, you know."

you move your eyes back up to law, who's face is completely devoid of any emotion. fuck, you thought it was awkward before, but this is definitely a new level.

"oh", law finally says, recognition flashing across his features. "i don't actually use our social media. that's not really my thing. ikkaku runs most of our accounts."

you feel relief wash over you as you slump back in your chair. so he didn't see you like his picture at one in the morning. thank god.

law smirks at you.

"but i'm glad you liked what you saw."

a/n: i know this is short, next chapter will be longer ૮ ྀིᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ྀིა also, this fic will be up on ao3 soon, i'm just travelling at the moment and i rarely have good wifi connection, so it might take another week or so <3

the drummer finishes the song off with a crash and everyone goes wild.

"thank you, everyone."

you look up at law, who's currently running a hand through his dark mop of hair while he lets his eyes sweep over the crowd.

"we have been haunted hearts and this is our last song for tonight."

for a second you think that his eyes lock with yours, but you quickly shake off the thought. even with how close to the stage you're standing, he would never be able to spot you in this sea of people, especially in a room as dark as this while he's probably blinded by the stage lights.

the first notes of the song start playing and you close your eyes, soaking up the heavily reverbed guitar sound. then law starts singing.

"no light behind the eyes

stuck in the melancholy

i'm numb, apathetic, already gone"

his voice is rough in a way that would almost feel comforting, if it weren't for the sharpness of the words he sings.

"fight to find the time

stuck in the melancholy

a soul anesthetic cutting me off"

you open your eyes just in time to see him take his mic off the stand and start moving across the small stage. he goes to stand next to the guitarist, who shoots him a grin while law makes a dramatic cutting motion with his free hand.

"sing sacrifice

walk in waters deep

to show you life ain't no paradise

i'm stuck in the melancholy

the toll of the misery bell"

at the drop of the chorus the bassist performs a jump, the lights flash and law bends over to scream the words.

"if i fall asleep, wake me up before the end

if life is but a dream, i don't wanna feel a thing

if i go under can you show me how to live again

wake me up again, wake me up again"

you bop your head along to the music. you'd never admit it but you did listen to the record law's band put out last year. seeing them perform it live on stage now makes you realize once more just how much better they've gotten since high school.

you watch intently as law kneels down on stage, completely focused on the words he's singing, not paying the audience in front of him any mind.

you have no idea how he does it. law never used to be one for big crowds or social gatherings. now he's up on stage singing his heart out in front of at least two hundred strangers, and he seems completely unphased doing it. all of his tension transforms into something else entirely, something raw and passionate, and you can tell the way it affects every single person in the room.

the guitarist, ikkaku you remember her name to be, performs a solo and law moves over to give her the centre of the stage. your eyes stay on him when he takes a quick sip out of a water bottle and runs his hand through his hair again. he used to do that when he was nervous, the memory suddenly pops up in your head. maybe he isn't completely unbothered.

ikakku finishes her solo and law walks back over to his mic stand to sing the chorus for the last time.

the song ends and you're surrounded by deafening cheers. although hesitantly, you raise your hands to clap as well. it feels awkward to act like you're just another face in this crowd of strangers. even if that's probably all that you are. it makes you feel weirdly out of place. like you're an imposter in this sacred space.

someone playfully bumps into your shoulder.

"i have to say, they aren't half as bad as i thought", nami yells, but you can still barely make out her words over the volume of the applause.

"meet outside?", you yell back, pointing your finger to the stairs leading out of the basement.

she gives you a thumbs up. your eyes wander back to the stage for a moment, not entirely sure what you're looking for. law and his band mates have already left. the sound guy has started playing background music that is way too loud, even after listening to an entire concert. slowly, you turn around and make your way through the wall of people, who are, for some reason, still cheering.

in passing you notice a few kids wearing shirts with the band's logo on them. it's some sort of creepy smiley face. law used to doodle a lot when you were kids, you wouldn't be surprised if they had just taken one of his doodles and declared it their brand. it irks you that you have to suppress a smirk at the thought.

when you finally make it outside there is no sign of nami anywhere, but there's already a small group of people gathered outside the front door of the flevance ghost club, which is actually just a crusty bar with a basement, that some desperate promoter has equipped with a pa. most of the people are around your age, maybe a little younger, smoking and excitedly talking about the show they've just watched together.

you turn your head in search for the orange head of hair that belongs to your best friend. absentmindedly, you start walking to get a better view, not paying attention to what's in front of you and you immediately bump into someone. the dark-haired girl gives you a dirty look before turning back to her friends. whatever.

you keep circling around yourself like an idiot until someone calls your name, and you look to your side to see nami walk over.

"god, this place is packed", she says when she's still a few metres away. "took me forever to get my coat back."

as soon as she reaches you, she makes a face at the cigarette smoke that is curling up around you two from every direction. it takes her approximately one second to find a spot that's not crowded with edgy teenagers and local music nerds and you gladly let her drag you away.

"so, did you like it?", nami asks as she wraps her arms around herself. it's a pretty cold night for the end of april.

"huh?", you mutter distractedly, your head still buzzing from the music and smoke. even though you've moved further away from the door now, it still reeks of booze.

"the concert", nami says. "did you like it?"

oh. right.

"yeah, sure."

"you know, when you asked me to come see a band from your high school, i thought it was gonna be a bunch of deadbeat losers playing songs about drinking and getting back together with your ex", she says like she's been holding in that comment for the entire night.

then she grins at you in a very nami-like manner and mercifully adds "but those guys were good."

you snort.

"especially the guitarist", she smirks. "that girl was hot."

"nami", you laugh. "you have a girlfriend."

"so what? i still have eyes."

another chuckle leaves your mouth and you watch your breath create a small white cloud before it evaporates into the cold night air.

"you still haven't told me why you wanted to go so bad."

nami looks at you with her eyebrow raised and you try to look anywhere but her face.

when you asked her to come with you, you told her that law is a guy from high school who you haven't seen in a while. which is technically the truth. you just left out the part where he used to be your best friend in the whole world and how heartbroken you were when he left and you never heard from him again.

you didn't want nami to think that you were dragging her to his show in hopes of some weird nostalgic throwback moment, or even worse, for some idiotic and entirely unrealistic grasp for closure. because that's really not why you're here.

if you're being completely honest, you're not entirely sure why you felt the need to see law's band play. everything that ever connected you died a long time ago. after he left, you put him and your friendship in a box, which you then carefully sealed and neatly stowed away somewhere in the depths of the back of your heart. as they say, life goes on, time keeps moving forward and things change. you have changed. and hell, law has definitely changed.

you didn't miss the tattoos that are now wrapped around his arms, spotted his piercings catching the light, visible even from below the stage, and the way he carries himself so differently now. as if he isn't afraid anymore. maybe he isn't. good for him.

it was probably never even that deep to begin with. law and you used to be friends and now you're not. shit happens. when you saw the announcement of his band playing a show in your, in law's hometown, you were simply curious. that's it.

"i told you, i was just curious."

nami gives you a look.

"is that why you kept staring at the singer like he's the chosen one himself the entire time?", she deadpans.

you're about to give her another halfhearted excuse when she curses under her breath. "shit, i don't have my gloves."

you can't help but feel a little relieved at the change of topic. "are you sure you brought them?"

"yes", she sighs. "they were in my coat. i bet that idiot clerk at the coat check lost them."

you were honestly surprised that a place like this even has a cloakroom. while you kept your jacket on, not wanting to wait in the long line, nami insisted that her coat had been too expensive to be 'dragged through a greasy basement filled with vampires', as she put it.

"i'll run back down real quick, you okay with waiting for me?", she asks for no reason at all, because she's storming off before you even get the chance to answer her question.

"sure", you nod at the back of her head as you watch her disappear back into the vampires' den.

there's quite a crowd gathered outside now, more and more people resurfacing from the badly ventilated basement. even though the show ended about twenty minutes ago, nobody seems to be in any hurry to leave. the loose groups of people are vibrating with a kind of post-concert adrenaline high.

instead of wondering why you're not rushed with the same charged energy that all these people seem to share, you shove your hands inside your pockets and take a few steps further off to the side, trying to avoid being roped into any drunken conversations with overly excited strangers.

there's a small alley by the side of the building that doesn't look too creepy and has yet to be discovered as a makeout spot for drunk couples. you make your way over to the dimly lit area and lean back against a freezing brick wall. whatever was left of your energy drains out of you in an instant and suddenly you feel exorbitantly tired.

you exhale and watch your frozen breath drift off into the night once more. the sky is relatively clear tonight and even with the streetlights you can make out quite a few stars. you try to look for a pattern, tracing the patches of milky white dots in search of a shape that makes sense, but you quickly give up. spotting constellations has never been your forte.

there's yelling coming from outside the alley and a gust of wind breezes through the narrow space as you let your eyes fall shut.

and then it happens.

"i thought i saw a familiar face back there", someone says, disrupting your moment of solitude.

the voice sounds vaguely familiar. you turn your head to the opening of the alley but there's no one there. for a moment you're stumped. until you turn over to the other side and immediately want to bite yourself in the ass for not recognizing his voice.

leaning against the frame of a door you didn't notice before, stands none other than trafalgar law.

a beat passes where you try to catch up with what's happening, but just like the stars your brain can't make sense of this either.

nobody says anything for a long moment. you stare at law like he just fell from the sky, because somehow it feels like he did, and law looks at you with an entirely blank expression that tells you absolutely nothing. your thoughts are complete chaos, they bounce off the walls in your head, screaming all at the same time, until your brain settles on god, how long has he been standing there?

"i was hoping you'd come", law eventually says, pushing his hands into the pockets of his tight jeans, as he takes a few lazy strides in your direction. he hasn't even bothered with putting on a jacket. he's wearing a different shirt than before though, which is a useless detail you notice for no reason whatsoever.

law slowly comes to stand in front of you, keeping a distance that is just big enough to make it weird. he is tall and handsome and somehow that's already annoying. you are not tall and probably not half as pretty and still at a complete loss for how to deal with this situation.

a drop of water from the rain gutter above your head falls down and lands on your nose, and the embarrassment of that happening in front of law in this exact moment is what finally manages to pull you out of your daze.

"right", you say dumbly, as you wipe at your nose with your sleeve. "great show."

law hums. "thanks."

another beat passes where you just look at each other. you try, again, and fail, again, to read the expression on his face.

it has always been like this with him. law has always been unfairly good at concealing what he really thinks, or feels for that matter. you find it almost funny how some things, apparently, haven't changed at all. it weirds you out at the same time, how uncomfortably intimate it feels to know these things about someone who's practically a stranger.

you try to maneuver your thoughts back out of the oncoming threat of memory lane, by reminding yourself that the version of law standing in front of you is definitely anything but the lanky nerd you used to know. the tattoos, the piercings, the loose shirt, it all makes him look like one of those people you see on the covers or artsy fashion magazines. his arms look toned, like he's been working out, his hair is messy but in an artfully styled way. and you're still hung up on the fact that the kid who used to beg you to roleplay with him as 'sora: warrior of the sea' characters has a lip ring now.

"you've changed", you say, as if to underline your thoughts, but mostly just to say literally anything.

law's mouth quirks up before he catches himself and tries to cover it up by running a hand through his hair, making it messier and better at the same time.

"so have you", he states.

and you swear you see him look you up and down for the fracture of a second, but the next moment his eyes are on yours again as if nothing happened. except that now the expression on his face seems slightly less indifferent than before.

and that in itself might have been weird enough already, but in the end you would have probably filed it away as a simple misinterpretation on your part. something you think you see and then question and then forget about all together. but nothing, seriously nothing in the entire world could've prepared you for the next words to leave law's mouth.

"i'll be back in the area in a few days, we should grab a coffee or something", he says casually.

it's like you do a mental double take.

did he really just say he wants to grab a coffee?

as in together?

as if it isn't already weird enough for you to even be at his show, let alone run into him and then speak to him after three years of radio silence.

it's even more confusing when you realize that you and law have never before done something even remotely close to getting coffee together. your friendship mostly consisted of browsing through record stores, trying to find the most obscure doom metal records, reading comics, climbing on trees and making trashy mix cds for one another. hell, you don't even like coffee.

"or tea", law corrects himself, as if he just remembered that detail as well.

you stare at him for a long moment while law awkwardly shifts on his feet, and you realize that you should probably say something.

yes, say something to make this horrifying moment go away.

"yeah, that sounds great."

you don't miss the look of relief that washes over law's features for a split second, before his face goes blank again.

"does the coffee place down the street still exist? you know, the one with the mismatched chairs", he asks and somehow it makes you incredibly mad that he doesn't know how the place had to close down two years ago and how it's your best friend's café now.

you exhale.

"not really, but they still have coffee." you force down your irritation, which seems completely exaggerated for something so irrelevant.

"cool. thursday at four work for you?"

"sure."

the corners of law's mouth threaten to rise once more and this time he lets it happen.

he takes a step back toward the door he emerged from and gives you a nod.

"i'll see you then", he says. and then he's gone, leaving you standing in the dark alley all by yourself again.

you proceed to stand there and stare at the spot trafalgar law stood in mere seconds ago, as you're trying to process what the hell just happened. for some reason your brain is so hung up on the café thing, that you can't even get through to the part where law casually walked up and spoke to you for the first time in three years. and then there's still the part where you agreed to get coffee with him.

"there you are."

nami's voice drags you out of your thoughts and you almost wince at the impact of your mind landing back on earth, back in this freezing spring night.

"woah", your friend comes to a stop in front of you. "you okay? you look like you've seen a ghost."

you turn and look back at the door law disappeared into, that is now shut like nothing ever happened.

"yeah", you force your eyes away as nami and you turn to leave.

"something like that."

✧ next chapter

you shut the door to the fridge aggressively and let yourself fall back against it, as you shove a handful of baby carrots into your mouth. one of them falls out of the bag and hits the ground with a quiet thump before it rolls directly under the fridge.

you slam your head back and groan. two pairs of eyes land on you, shooting you accusatory looks.

"what?", you ask around your mouthful of carrot mush.

you watch your roommates exchange a wary glance before they turn back to you.

"you're blocking the fridge", zoro says.

"how was the concert?", luffy asks at the same time.

they look at each other again and zoro frowns.

you roll your eyes but nevertheless take a step away from the fridge. luffy's shoulders noticeably deflate as he walks over to take out some leftover chicken pasta, and zoro grabs a beer for himself.

"it was fine", you huff, setting down your snack on the small kitchen table and pulling out a chair.

zoro pops open his bottle. "is that why you're stress eating in the middle of the night?"

"oh, fuck off, i'm not stress eating", you say as you're already shoving another baby carrot into your mouth.

zoro raises an eyebrow.

"nevermind", he says. "i don't even wanna know."

"i wanna know", luffy exclaims around a spoonful of pasta and plops down in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

you exhale.

"i talked to law."

silence.

"who?"

you swear to god, you love your friends but sometimes they drive you nuts.

luffy, zoro and you have known each other since basically forever. you were put in the same class in elementary school and became friends almost instantly, spending all your afternoons playing together outside, making up adventures about pirates and thieves and saving the world. as you got older you realized that it would probably take more to save the world than crashing the mean kids' sandcastles, but either way your friendship lasted all the way throughout high school, until one thing led to another and eventually they became your very chaotic roommates.

"trafalgar law", you say to zoro. "we went to high school with him."

"who's that?", luffy now asks.

even though law did go to the same school as the three of you, he usually hung out with completely different people than you did. zoro and luffy probably only ever met him because of you.

"he was my friend", you explain. "the one with the band."

luffy tilts his head while he keeps stuffing his face with pasta. "no idea who you're talking about."

"oh", zoro says and takes a sip from his beer. "didn't you have a crush on him?"

you feel your eyes grow wide. "what? no i didn't!"

"are you going on a date?", luffy asks giddily, dragging out the word 'date' unnecessarily long.

"no", you say quickly. "it's not a date."

after saying goodbye to nami and walking the rest of the way home, with your head still spinning from the chaotic mess of a night, you couldn't help but wonder what law's intentions were when he invited you for coffee next week. because really, what is it that you're doing?

once you successfully shoved down all the stupid little ideas that popped up in your head at the question, you settled on something along the lines of simply catching up with an old friend over coffee. that seems to be the thing closest to the truth and therefore the most reasonable explanation.

"it's definitely a date", zoro comments.

you let your head fall down on the table.

"fuck you, zoro, no it's not", you whine.

"whatever you say", he grumbles and you smack him.

"oi", zoro complains, luffy laughs at him and you try to hide your grin behind your hand.

even though you love pretending that you'd rather live on your own, secretly you wouldn't change this for the world. luffy and zoro are your family. sure, they're loud, unorganized and deeply chaotic, and zoro gets lost on his way to the supermarket at least once a week, but they would also set the whole world on fire if you'd ask them to. and you'd do the same for them, and more.

suddenly noticing how hard it has become to keep your eyes open, you look up at the clock hanging above the kitchen door. almost 1:00 am.

"why are you guys still awake anyways?", you get up to put what's left of the carrots back in the fridge and stifle a yawn.

"trained late", zoro mumbles into his bottle.

luffy perks up.

"i was working", he grins and zoro and you groan.

"luffy, for the last time, texting strangers on instagram and asking them to join your weird startup is not working."

"first of all", luffy says before he takes another bite of his pasta, that he miraculously still has not finished. "it's not weird. it's totally legit. and second of all i'm looking for investors."

zoro snorts. "sure you are."

"i'm telling you", luffy says and zoro and you exchange a look before you speak the next words along with luffy.

"this is going to be the next big thing."

"hell yeah", luffy exclaims at you and zoro going along with the words that luffy repeats literally every single time he talks about his so called business.

if you're being totally honest you still have no clue what his company is even supposed to do. but luf has always been one to dream big. you're guessing that deep down you and zoro both know that the only reason you so causally dismiss him is because you have so much faith in him that it's almost ridiculous. that kid is definitely going places, in his own weird and twisted way. sometimes you wish you had even a little bit of the determination that luffy has.

zoro chugs the last of his beer before he puts down the bottle and stretches his arms over his head.

"i'm turning in. night", he mutters as he strolls out of the kitchen.

"goodnight zoro", luffy yells after him and you chuckle under your breath.

"me too, luf." you ruffle his hair in passing, earning yourself a muffled complaint.

you slowly trudge back to your room and notice that you're still wearing your clothes from earlier. hesitantly, you pick up a strand of your hair to check if it smells of smoke but luckily it's barely noticeable. you decide to shower in the morning and simply change out of your skirt and tights and into an oversized t-shirt.

falling back onto your bed you take your phone out to check for any messages you might have missed during your night out. there's not much except for a few memes from luffy and a text from sanji asking if you're still up for movie night tomorrow. you text him a quick 'yes' before opening instagram to look at luffy's memes. however, as the app opens, a different thought materializes in your head.

lead by your curiosity, you pull up the search bar and start typing. your thumb hovers over the 'go' button for a moment, before you decide to get over yourself and tap down on it.

the account page labeled @hauntedhearts pops up brightly on your screen and you squint your eyes before turning down the brightness level on your phone. the story icon is flaring up around the profile picture and before you think you have already clicked on it.

it's mostly videos from the concert. there's a video of the opening band that you missed, because nami was late, and then there's a few snapshots of law and his band on stage. you tap your way through all of the clips until you're back on the band's profile.

the majority of their posts are photos from their most recent live shows, you notice as you scroll down their page. a bunch of dramatic shots of the guitarist and the bassist standing back to back on stage and law screaming into his microphone. you stop at a close up of law, the camera catching him from a low angle that makes it look like he's standing directly above the viewer. there's a dangerous looking grin on his face as he stares down into the camera. his golden lipring catches the light in a way that makes it stand out against his skin even more - and is that an eyebrow piercing? you must have missed that when you saw him earlier.

you try to zoom in on the photo to check if it isn't just a light reflection, when suddenly your finger slips and a red heart appears in front of law's face.

no.

no no no no no no no no no no no no!

that didn't just happen.

you press your eyes closed in your crisis and take a deep breath before checking your phone screen again, to see that you did in fact accidentally press like on a picture of law's face from three weeks ago.

fuck.

fuck, that's embarrassing.

with a loud groan you turn your phone off and throw it onto the other side of your bed, as if the distance would keep the embarrassment away. it lands with a thud, but the embarrassment, unfortunately, stays right where you are.

great. now law knows that you've been stalking his band's instagram page, worse even, that you were looking at close up pictures of his face. he'll probably think you're a fan or something. ugh.

irritated and embarrassed, you get up to brush your teeth. who cares what law thinks, you tell yourself. maybe he'll see it and cancel your coffee meet-up. good. one less thing to worry about then.

you sigh at yourself in the mirror. your reflection stares back at you with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth, your hair a mess and your mascara smudged.

who cares what law thinks, you try again. he's just some guy you haven't seen in years. on thursday you'll probably have an awkward 'so what have you been up to' and then never see each other again.

not for the first time, you find yourself wondering what came over you when you said yes to him in the first place. what exactly are you hoping will come out of this? frustrated, you turn off the light and walk back to your room, realizing that you don't have an answer.

༺ ♰ ༻

"what's this i hear about a date?", sanji asks as he sets your drink down in front of you.

"not you too", you grumble and quickly take a sip of your margarita, because you're not doing this sober.

"did you just say date?", nami asks and lets herself fall down onto sanji's couch right next to you.

you ignore her and turn back to sanji instead.

"how do you even know about this?", you question your friend but he just shrugs.

"i have my ways", he winks at you before he walks back over to the kitchen area of his small studio apartment to get his own drink.

you narrow your eyes at his back. did luffy mention something to him? maybe he went by the restaurant to pick up food when sanji was working earlier today? that must be it.

"now tell me, who's the guy?" sanji plops down in the armchair next to you.

"or girl?", nami adds.

"first of all", you clarify. "it's not a date."

nami grins. "we'll be the judges of that."

"that's what i'm afraid of."

sanji and nami both moved here within the last few years, meaning that they have no idea who law is. that was one of the key reasons why you invited nami in particular to come along to his show. you didn't want to go by yourself, but you also didn't want to deal with the questions and comments of someone who knows how close you and law used to be. (like a certain green-haired roommate for example.)

when you and nami walked home after the concert last night, more importantly after law had left you standing out in the cold with his ominous coffee invite still hanging in the air, you didn't exactly tell her what happened. you should've known that your decision of not telling her right away would only make things worse for you.

"you're going out with the gloomy singer?", she screeches after you fill her and sanji in on last night's events.

"wait", sanji says. "i need to see him, show me a picture."

"i'm not going out with him!"

"but you used to be friends", nami says. "before he left to become a famous rockstar."

"oh my god! and now he's taking you out on a date to tell you how much he's missed you when he was out there touring the world", sanji swoons, dramatically holding a hand to his chest and you roll your eyes at his theatrics.

"they're not famous", you explain. "and they've only been touring within the country as far as i know."

"potato potato", sanji dismisses you, clearly not interested in the actual facts. "still, that's so romantic. i wish i had a famous rockstar boyfriend who came back for me."

you hide your face in your hands in an attempt to shield yourself from your friends' hasty conclusions.

"none of the things you just said are true. he's probably just passing through and didn't want to be rude when he saw me."

nami examines you closely before she speaks.

"so you don't have feelings for him then?"

"of course not!"

you look up at her, but her gaze is unrelenting. you turn over to sanji for help, but he's giving you the exact same 'you can't bullshit me' expression.

"i literally haven't seen him in years", you deadpan.

"well, did you have feelings for him before he left?", sanji asks curiously.

"no", you repeat, feeling yourself grow tired of your friends' interrogation. "like i said, we were just friends."

it's the truth. law and you were never more than friends. you may have been heartbroken when he left, but that doesn't mean you were in love with him or anything. it's only natural to feel sad when the only person who's ever truly made you feel seen suddenly tells you that he's moving to the other side of the country in less than two weeks. he was your best friend and it really sucked when he left, and it sucked even worse when he not once reached out to you after he was gone. but even that part feels so far away now that it barely seems to matter.

"fine", sanji says. "i believe you. though i still love the idea of a famous rockstar being secretly in love with me." he looks at you. "god, do you think he's gay?"

you laugh. "you're hopeless."

"what? a man can dream."

you playfully throw a pillow his way that he easily dodges.

"i'm curious though, is he?", nami chimes in.

"what?"

"is he gay?"

you pause your halfhearted pillow fight with sanji to lean back and think.

"huh. i have no idea."

sanji snorts. "calls the guy her best friend and doesn't even know if he likes dick or not, sounds like a real deep friendship."

you roll your eyes, but there's no bite to it. "we connected over different things, okay?"

sanji raises an eyebrow at you. "like what?"

"like music. or comics. he used to be really into them."

you smile at the memory of law, who was always so quiet, but when it came to his favourite comics he could talk for hours. he's probably too cool for that now.

"sounds like he's a nerd", nami snorts.

"i guess he was", you're not sure why, but somehow the memory makes you feel nostalgic.

"so that's why you were friends, got it", sanji says. "nerds get along with nerds."

"hey!" you throw another pillow at him.

the three of you banter for a little while longer, before sanji finally puts on the movie. but at some point you catch your mind drifting back to law and your friendship. it really is weird how you can't recall if he was ever romantically interested in anyone. you find yourself wondering if that changed too.

"...how is it?" sanji asked proudly, setting a steaming bowl of seafood risotto in front of you.

you smiled.

"it's warm."

"...warm?"

you nodded happily. 

"very warm."

sanji blinked.

"...and?"

"...it fills my stomach."

he stared.

that wasn't an answer.

he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"are you... messing with me?"

you tilted your head.

"no?"

his chef instincts started screaming.

the next day, he tested you.

he made pancakes.

everyone else nearly cried over how fluffy they were.

"these are amazing!!" luffy yelled through a mouthful.

"sanji, i think these are your best yet!" chopper beamed.

you took one bite.

"...soft."

sanji almost dropped the spatula.

soft.

not sweet.

not buttery.

not fluffy.

soft.

"...that's all?" he asked.

"mhm."

"..."

he made curry.

you said it was "hot."

he made lemon tart.

you said it was "cold."

he made garlic pasta.

you said it was "chewy."

sanji's eye twitched.

something was terribly wrong.

a week later, he cornered you in the pantry.

you looked mildly surprised.

"...did i do something?"

he crossed his arms dramatically.

"every time i cook, everyone describes flavors."

he counted on his fingers.

"'sweet.'"

"'salty.'"

"'creamy.'"

"'rich.'"

"'savory.'"

then he pointed at you.

"you?"

"'warm.'"

"'chewy.'"

"'crispy.'"

"'wet.'"

you rubbed the back of your neck.

"...i don't really know how else to describe food."

"...why?"

"...because i can't taste."

everything froze.

even the potatoes felt dramatic.

"...what?"

you blinked.

"i can't taste."

"or smell."

"...since i was little."

sanji's cigarette slipped right out of his mouth.

"you..."

"...can't..."

"...taste?"

you nodded.

"or smell."

"...ever?"

"nope."

"...not even chocolate?"

"...no."

"...ice cream?"

"...just cold."

"...steak?"

"...texture."

"...coffee?"

"...warm drink."

sanji looked like someone had personally informed him the ocean had been canceled.

he refused to believe it.

"close your eyes."

"...why?"

"trust me."

you shrugged.

"okay."

he gently placed something into your mouth.

you chewed.

"...crunchy."

"...that's it?"

"...i think it's... round?"

"...it was a strawberry."

he dramatically held his chest.

"my poor sweetheart..."

"i've never seen you this emotional."

"you've never tasted strawberries..."

"i don't know what i'm missing."

"THAT'S THE PROBLEM!"

sanji entered what the crew would later call...

the five stages of chef grief.

denial.

"maybe your taste buds are just... sleeping."

anger.

"WHOEVER MADE THIS HAPPEN, I JUST WANT TO TALK."

bargaining.

"what if i add more butter?"

depression.

"...they've never tasted homemade bread..."

acceptance.

"...i'll simply make every meal with extra love."

"how does that even work?" usopp asked later during lunch.

you shrugged.

"food just feels different."

"spicy?"

"pain."

"mint?"

"cold pain."

"wasabi?"

"very aggressive pain."

everyone nodded thoughtfully.

"...fair."

sanji became determined.

if you couldn't enjoy flavor...

he'd make you enjoy everything else.

"soup."

you took a sip.

"...silky."

his eyes sparkled.

"yes!"

"bread."

"...crispy."

"excellent!"

"fried shrimp."

"...very crunchy."

"that's my specialty!"

he started asking questions constantly.

"how's the texture?"

"good."

"temperature?"

"perfect."

"mouthfeel?"

"...is that a real word?"

"...it is now."

soon, every meal became strangely scientific.

"okay."

sanji crouched beside you.

"rate today's rice."

"...nine."

his eyes widened.

"really?"

"yes."

"why?"

"...pleasant to chew."

he nearly cried.

he became ridiculously protective during meals.

"too hot."

he blew on your soup.

"careful."

he cut your meat into smaller pieces.

"this one's crunchy."

he handed you freshly baked bread.

"don't eat that yet."

he gently took away a plate.

"the filling is still lava."

"...sanji."

"...yes?"

"...i'm an adult."

"...i know."

"...still blowing on your soup."

luffy didn't understand.

"if they can't taste..."

he shoved an entire lemon into his own mouth.

"...why eat?"

you smiled.

"because i'm hungry."

"...fair enough."

he immediately stole your bread.

one evening, sanji quietly sat beside you on the deck.

the sunset painted the ocean orange.

"...can i ask something?"

"of course."

"...do you wish you could taste?"

you thought for a while.

"...sometimes."

"mostly because everyone gets so excited."

"they talk about flavors like they're adventures."

"i've always wondered what they're talking about."

sanji's heart squeezed painfully.

"...i'm sorry."

you looked confused.

"for what?"

"...that you never got to experience it."

you smiled.

"...it's okay."

"i don't really miss something i've never had."

"...besides."

you nudged his shoulder.

"everyone else looks happy when they eat."

"that's enough for me."

sanji looked at you for a long moment.

then he smiled.

softly.

"you're impossible."

"that's what zoro says."

"for entirely different reasons."

the next morning...

sanji burst into the dining room carrying breakfast.

"today's menu!"

everyone cheered.

except you.

you simply waited patiently.

sanji placed your plate down first.

everyone noticed.

it looked...

different.

the toast was cut into little stars.

the eggs were shaped like tiny flowers.

the vegetables were arranged into smiling faces.

even the pancakes looked like hearts.

you stared.

"...it's cute."

sanji grinned proudly.

"if flavor's off the table..."

he tapped the plate.

"...presentation wins."

you laughed.

"a visual meal?"

"exactly."

"that's incredibly cheesy."

"i'm a romantic chef."

"you're impossible."

"that's what you said yesterday."

"...fair."

you picked up one of the little star-shaped toast pieces.

"...crispy."

sanji gasped dramatically.

"the highest compliment!"

you couldn't stop laughing.

neither could he.

from that day on...

your meals always looked just a little more magical than everyone else's.

rice shaped into bears.

vegetables carved into flowers.

bread baked as tiny hearts.

cookies shaped like little cigarette swirls just to make you laugh.

because maybe you couldn't taste.

maybe you couldn't smell.

but sanji would make absolutely sure...

that every meal still felt like love.

——————————————————

𐔌 ᛝ taglist .ᐟ : @chocolateshortcakesblog

bepo had been the one to spot you first.

"captain..."

law looked up from the medical book resting on his lap.

"...something's watching us."

he followed bepo's gaze toward the treeline.

two pale lights floated between the shadows.

eyes.

they didn't blink.

then the lights disappeared.

"probably an animal," law muttered.

except animals didn't stand upright.

they found you the next morning.

you were crouched on top of a cliff overlooking the sea, knees tucked against your chest.

your hair...

law had never seen hair that long.

it pooled around you like black water, drifting over the rocks and down the cliffside.

you didn't react when the heart pirates approached.

didn't run.

didn't attack.

didn't even blink.

law stopped several feet away.

"...hello."

your eyes slowly shifted toward him.

wide.

silent.

reflective despite the daylight.

he noticed everything at once.

the claws resting against the stone.

the uneven burns crawling from your chest to the right side of your face.

the strange way your joints bent.

your shoulders sat just a little... wrong.

not broken.

simply... capable of moving farther than they should.

uncanny.

beautiful.

terrifying.

"...are you injured?" he asked.

no answer.

penguin whispered, "captain... i don't think she's human."

law ignored him.

"if you're hurt, i can help."

nothing.

he sighed.

"...we're leaving food."

he placed a rice ball and dried fish on the ground before turning away.

none of them looked back.

except law.

you were still watching him.

without blinking.

the next day...

the food was gone.

three days later...

law found you again.

this time...

inside the polar tang.

you had somehow climbed into one of the storage rooms.

curled up behind stacked crates.

watching.

always watching.

"...you know," law said quietly.

"breaking into someone's submarine is considered rude."

your head tilted.

the movement was almost birdlike.

then...

without warning...

you unfolded.

your body stretched upward in one smooth motion.

your spine curved impossibly.

bones clicked softly.

law had seen enough injuries to know...

that should have hurt.

but you looked completely fine.

you stood.

you were taller than him.

not by much.

just enough.

he folded his arms.

"...fascinating."

you simply stared.

“...law."

he murmured.

silence.

he almost laughed.

"tough crowd."

you stayed.

mostly because no one could figure out how to make you leave.

every time they escorted you outside...

they'd return to find you somewhere else.

sometimes curled beneath bepo's bed.

sometimes hanging upside down from ceiling pipes.

law opened his office door.

you were standing inside.

motionless.

"...how did you get in here?"

silence.

"...did you pick the lock?"

nothing.

law pinched the bridge of his nose.

"i'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose."

your head tilted.

he couldn't tell if that was yes.

everyone slowly got used to you.

sort of.

the first few weeks were...

an adjustment.

you climbed walls.

walked without making noise.

appeared behind people.

stared.

always stared.

never blinked.

shachi screamed at least twice a day.

penguin nearly fainted when he opened a cupboard and found you folded inside it.

"...why were you in there?!"

silence.

"...captain, she's haunting me."

law didn't even look up from his paperwork.

"she lives here."

"she was smiling."

"...she smiles?"

"...i think."

law was different.

he didn't treat you like something frightening.

he treated you like another patient.

another person.

one evening...

he walked into the infirmary.

you were sitting on the examination table.

your burned hand rested in your lap.

fresh blisters.

"...burn acting up again?"

your eyes shifted toward him.

he approached carefully.

"may i?"

after a long pause...

you slowly offered your hand.

your claws were surprisingly warm.

law cleaned the damaged skin in silence.

"...does it hurt?"

you nodded.

barely.

"...i'll make something stronger."

your fingers twitched around his sleeve.

he paused.

"...what?"

your lips parted.

they revealed sharp teeth.

"..."

your voice was soft.

rough.

like it hadn't been used in years.

"...thank... you."

law froze.

it was the first time he'd heard you speak.

"...you're welcome."

after that...

you still didn't talk much.

but somehow...

law became the person you quietly followed.

he'd be reading.

you'd sit nearby.

he'd be writing reports.

you'd stand beside the bookshelf.

he'd drink coffee.

you'd stare at the mug until he silently made you one.

do you even like coffee?

no.

you just wanted the warm cup.

one rainy night...

law couldn't sleep, like usual.

he wandered through the submarine.

then noticed someone sitting outside on the deck.

you.

rain soaked your impossibly long hair.

your face remained pointed toward the sky.

"...you're going to get sick."

nothing.

he stepped closer.

"...what are you doing?"

after a while...

"...listening."

"...to what?"

"...rain."

your answer surprised him.

he sat beside you.

"...it's loud."

you finally whispered.

"...but it isn't angry."

law looked sideways.

"...you can tell the difference?"

you nodded.

"...people sound angry."

"...fire sounds hungry."

"...rain..."

"...just falls."

law didn't know what to say.

weeks later...

he accidentally found your medical records.

not yours.

someone else's notes.

old.

stained.

written by people who had treated you like an object.

subject displays increased flexibility.

subject survives repeated thermal exposure.

subject remains emotionally detached.

subject vocalization decreasing.

recommended continued experimentation.

law stared at the page.

his hands trembled and crumpled the paper.

"...bastards."

he found you later that evening.

you were asleep.

or...

what passed for sleep.

curled beneath one of the observation windows.

hair surrounding you like a nest.

he noticed something.

even asleep...

you looked tense.

your claws dug into your own arms.

your breathing was uneven.

dreaming.

bad dream.

he crouched.

carefully...

very carefully...

he rested a hand against your shoulder.

your eyes snapped open.

reflecting brightly.

your claws shot forward.

stopping...

barely an inch from his throat.

"...it's me."

you froze.

then quickly pulled away.

your shoulders shook.

"...sorry."

"...don't apologize."

he slowly reached toward you again.

this time...

you didn't move.

"...they hurt you."

silence.

"...for a long time."

your eyes lowered.

"...yes."

law swallowed.

"...they're gone now."

you stared at the floor.

"...still hurts."

his chest tightened.

"...i know."

"...no."

your quiet voice almost disappeared beneath the hum of the submarine.

"...you don't."

law looked at you.

really looked.

the burns.

the scars.

the permanent fear hidden beneath empty eyes.

"...you're right."

he admitted softly.

"...i don't."

"..."

"...but..."

he gently rested his forehead against yours.

"...i'm here anyway."

for a long time...

you simply stayed there.

then...

very slowly...

you leaned forward.

just enough.

after that...

touch became easier.

not easy.

just...

possible.

sometimes your claws would lightly catch his sleeve.

sometimes you'd silently sit shoulder to shoulder.

sometimes...

when nightmares became too loud...

you'd appear outside his office.

he never asked.

he'd simply move his chair.

you'd quietly sit beside him until morning.

everyone noticed.

ikkaku elbowed bepo.

"...captain likes her."

bepo smiled.

"...i think she likes him too."

law heard every word.

pretended he didn't.

he realized he was in love...

because of your smile.

it wasn't dramatic.

or dazzling.

or even particularly visible.

you had been watching bepo attempt to bake cookies.

he somehow managed to burn water.

you watched him panic.

then...

the tiniest curve appeared at your lips.

barely there.

gone in a second.

law's heart nearly stopped.

"...she smiled."

bepo blinked.

"...she does that?"

"...apparently."

confessing...

was terrible.

absolutely terrible.

you were both awkward.

painfully awkward.

law had planned something intelligent.

instead...

he found you sitting on the submarine roof at sunset.

you looked beautiful beneath orange light.

your hair drifted behind you.

your burn scars glowed softly.

he climbed beside you.

the two of you sit in silence for a good…

miserable… 

thirty minutes.

"...i like you."

you slowly turned your head.

"...romantically."

he added.

"...just to clarify."

silence.

law rubbed the back of his neck.

"...you don't have to answer."

"..."

"...i know talking isn't..."

before he finished...

your claw gently caught the sleeve of his coat.

he looked down.

then back at you.

"...i..."

your cheeks flushed.

"...like..."

the word seemed difficult.

"...you."

"...too."

law blinked.

"...really?"

you nodded once.

"...good… because i wasn't sure if i imagined the whole thing."

your lips twitched again.

another tiny smile.

the kiss was somehow even more awkward.

you both stared at each other.

waiting.

neither moved.

law cleared his throat.

"...should..."

you leaned forward first.

very slowly.

giving him every chance to pull away.

he didn't.

instead...

he met you halfway.

his hand rested carefully against the unburned side of your face.

like something precious.

like he wasn't afraid.

your lips barely brushed.

soft.

hesitant.

warm.

when you pulled back...

your reflective eyes were impossibly wide.

"...was..."

you whispered.

"...that okay?"

law smiled.

small.

genuine.

"...yeah."

he pressed another kiss against your forehead.

"...that was perfect."

for the first time...

you smiled long enough for him to truly see it.

it wasn't uncanny.

or frightening.

or strange.

it was simply yours.

and law thought...

that maybe the moon reflected in your eyes because it had finally found somewhere gentle enough to stay.

"10.000 and I'll throw in one of these charms for the beautiful lady", he holds up one of the little trinkets that lie scattered across the table.

you scoff. "so because i'm pretty, you think i'm stupid?"

the man rolls his eyes the moment he realizes that his scamming tactics aren't going to work on you.

"fine", he drops his greasy salesman act and slumps back in his chair. "5.000."

you narrow your eyes at him.

"i'll take it for three."

"four", he tries.

"three."

the man glares at you, but nevertheless takes your money and fishes out a bag for you.

the sun feels hot on your skin as you navigate your way through the bustling market. it's always busier in the summer, especially in the early afternoon, and you're slowly beginning to regret your decision of going grocery shopping early today.

already exhausted, you decide to take a small break, leaning your back against a tree and finding comfort in the shadow of the leaves above your head. light falls through in tiny spots that dance on the grass by your feet. summer seems to get hotter every year in this place.

slowly, you let your eyes drift across the town square. you know this place well, every nook, every corner engraved in your mind. you know the ways of the entire island, the way the wind blows, the way the people and crowds move, the way the weather changes and the way the rain tastes.

it's hard to be surprised in a place you've been calling home for so long now, which is why you notice instantly when something feels out of place. like the tall figure hiding in the shadows of one of the buildings framing the marketplace.

you do a double take.

it's not exactly unfamiliar. but it doesn't belong here. it doesn't fit in.

your heart jumps when you recognize the slightly hunched posture and the long dark coat flowing down the silhouette.

law.

he appears to notice that you've spotted him, his eyes already carefully trained on you.

he lingers for another moment. there's too much distance between you to actually tell, but you think you notice a smug smirk playing at his lips.

then he dips his head and disappears into the shadow of a small alley. luckily, you already know where he's headed.

you waste no time in picking your bags back up and hurrying off after him, the items still left on your grocery list long forgotten as you make your way home.

law is back. finally.

how much time has it been? two months? maybe three?

when you unlock the door to your small house at the town's border he's is nowhere to be seen yet, but you can still barely contain your excitement.

god, how you've missed him.

you put down your bags and head to the kitchen to put away the food you bought, when suddenly his voice rings through your hallway, and you stop in your tracks.

"that vendor is going to cry himself to sleep tonight."

you whirl around.

law is leaning against the wall in your hallway, legs long, arms crossed and face blank.

he hasn't changed one bit since you last saw him.

his hair looks disheveled, he's not wearing his hat. he usually takes it off to be less recognizable, not wanting to raise any suspicions about his more or less frequent visits to your island. his beard is trimmed a little shorter, his jaw looks sharper - has he been eating? his eyes still hold the exact same expression you've grown to know so well.

a smile makes it's way onto your lips. "law."

his mouth quirks up the tiniest bit in response. his voice is low when he speaks.

"hi."

there's a sudden pull, a tug at your heart, like the universe is trying to balance out the distance between you at once. you can't restrain yourself any longer and surge forward, launching yourself into his arms. he catches you easily as you wrap your legs around his waist.

"miss me?", he smirks.

"only a little", you mumble against his lips.

the kiss you share is deep and filled with longing. your groceries stand forgotten on the floor next to you when you finally pull away.

"how long are you staying?", you ask a little out of breath.

there's a glint in his eyes, a tiny hint of regret when he responds.

"not long."

law lets your slide out of his arms and lowers you back to the floor. you press yourself against his chest and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.

it's funny how a person who is always gone can smell more like home than the house you sleep in every night. you let yourself be enveloped in his scent and take a deep breath.

"either way, i'm happy to see you."

you know that law visits as much as he can. you know what his life is, know what his days look like, you would never hold it against him that he isn't around much. after all, you knew exactly who he was when you fell for him.

law rests his head on top of yours and burries his face in your hair. it bothers him too, to have to leave you behind. you can see it in his eyes every single time. but you know that your safety is more important to him than the pain of your frequent goodbyes. and for that you're eternally grateful.

"i'm happy to see you, too", he mumbles into your hair.

you can't help the chuckle that escapes your mouth, even as your heart flutters at the softness that lies within his words. it's rare for law to say things like this so openly and you would never miss a chance to tease him for it.

"wow", you grin and look up at him, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. "when did you become such a softie?"

law rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the smirk he bites back when he playfully pushes you aside.

he plays along with your comment. "a lot can happen in two months."

you cross your arms in front of your chest.

"oh yeah?", you grin. "what else changed then?"

law's eyes lock with yours as he takes a step forward, crowding you against the wall in your narrow hallway.

one hand lies firmly on your hip, the other one is placed against the wall next to your head when he smirks down at you.

"i could show you."

you exhale.

"please do."

august (law)

law can hear movement coming from inside the house when he leans against the frame of your front door and he nods to himself. you're home.

he would never admit it out loud but he likes to plan the way he's going to surprise you each time he visits well ahead of time. the look on your face, the spark in your eyes and that smile, the way he can feel your happiness take over the second you spot him are all things law thinks about a lot. it's a moment he looks forward to the entire time that he's away at sea.

his crew like to joke about the gone look on his face when he's daydreaming about his 'secret girlfriend' again. idiots. they're not even supposed to know about you, but apparently law isn't as low-key as he thinks when he goes off to see you.

he knocks.

almost immediately his heartbeat picks up in anticipation and law internally curses at his body. this thing between you two has been going on for long enough, he should be able to handle it without breaking out in a nervous sweat.

but then there's footsteps and then the door swings open and then there's you, and law forgets how to breathe.

you look up at him with big eyes and the next thing he knows is you in his arms, and your face pressed into his neck, and he holds you like he never wants to let you go again. and he realizes that he really doesn't.

"law", you exclaim happily and he feels that warm feeling wash over him, that feeling that only your presence can give him. even just hearing you say his name like this is heaven. law could listen to you say his name all day long.

he lets you out of his embrace just to pull you right back into a kiss.

oh, how he has missed this.

he kisses you for a short while until eventually law forces himself to pull away in order to hand you the gift he's still holding in his hand.

"you brought me flowers", you smile and take the bouquet from him.

law watches you close your eyes to smell them and takes a mental screenshot of your face. if he was an artist he would try drawing you, so that he could look at the soft expression adorning your features every single day. add that to the list of things he would never say out loud.

"thank you", you say softly.

law's heart melts. he clears his throat to cover it up.

"they don't die", he casually mentions.

you glance up at him. "what do you mean?"

"they're special", law explains, as you take a step back to finally let him inside. "they're from an island with a very unique vegetation. the local plants have cellular matter that decomposes so slowly that they outlive regular plants by centuries, even when you cut them."

he pulls the door shut behind him. "so they won't wilt."

you shake your head in disbelief, a stunned smile forming on your lips.

"so you're telling me that all this time you've never gotten me flowers because you didn't want them to be gone too soon?"

your question hits law square in the chest. he should've known that you'd see right through him.

it's true. law figured that a gift that doesn't last is useless from someone who isn't around to give you a new one once it's gone.

he tries to play it off and simply shrugs.

"aww", you coo. "law, you wanted them to last so i don't forget about you."

law gives you a look and you laugh.

"thank you", you then say earnestly. "seriously, these are beautiful."

not as beautiful as you, law thinks.

november (you)

you wake up in the late morning. sunlight spills through the curtains and into the room. you watch it throw shadows over law's sleeping form.

slowly, you let your eyes wander from his face, down his neck, over his naked torso, tracing the swirls of black ink engraved into his skin forever.

he has his left arm thrown over your waist, his legs tangled with yours. soft breaths leave his slightly opened mouth. his dark hair is a terrible mess. it suits him.

law came back two nights ago and you've been enjoying every single second of his company. life feels brighter with him there. once he's gone it always leaves you feeling like something's missing. it's not just the lack of his presence. it's as if your soul is incomplete when he's not there. it's as if he takes a part of you to sea with him.

you raise your fingers up to his face, carefully pushing back a piece of hair that has fallen into his eyes. you could watch law sleep forever. he looks so peaceful like this, so soft.

in moments like this you wonder what it must be like to only know him out there in the real world. to only ever see the surgeon of death and not this side of him, never this side. the man lying in bed next to you isn't the surgeon of death. he's simply a man.

"it's rude to stare", law mumbles into his pillow.

you breathe out a small laugh.

"so what?"

law cracks an eye open. a lazy smile hangs on his lips when he looks at you. then he pulls you closer until you're flush against his chest.

"so, i want an apology", he jokes quietly, voice still rough from sleep.

you giggle. "how about a kiss?"

law mocks a contemplating hum.

"i was thinking more like a written statement."

"okay", you shrug. "will you let me get up then?"

you feel his arms tighten around you.

"what?", he almost sounds offended. "no! why?"

"well, how else would i prepare you a written apology?"

law sighs in defeat. "i guess a verbal one will do as well."

you look up at him.

"i deeply apologize for any disturbance i may have caused you during your well-earned beauty sleep."

law snorts.

"will you forgive me?", you ask theatrically.

he looks at you carefully and raises an eyebrow.

in a fracture of a second you're being flipped onto your back with law hovering over you, his face suddenly very close to yours.

"i might", he whispers.

in a dramatic gesture, you hold a hand over your heart and fake a sniffle.

"i'll do anything for your forgiveness."

law smirks when he leans in.

"oh, will you?", he mumbles as his lips meet yours.

you sigh into the kiss, running your hands up the smooth skin on his back and tangling your fingers in his hair.

law angles his face to deepen the kiss, slowly sliding a down to your waist and under them hem of your shirt.

you pull him into you by the back of his neck, tugging slightly at his hair and he lets a low groan slip into your mouth, that makes your entire body tingle.

his lips leave yours and he kisses a trail along your jaw and down your neck. he drags his teeth over his favourite spot there, the one he knows will make you squirm and your fingers tighten around his hair as a quiet moan escapes you.

with a satisfied smirk, law's lips find yours again. he slides your shirt up further and tugs, urging you to lean up and take it off. you comply, only breaking the kiss to pull the shirt over your head. he takes it off your hands and carelessly throws it behind himself, before pushing you back down on the bed.

instead of leaning in, he hovers over you for a moment, looking at you with this soft look in his eyes you so rarely get to see.

you stare up at him and drink in the sight of late morning law. his dishevelled bed-head, the everpresent circles under his warm toned eyes, the golden earrings and the uneven breaths.

god, he's beautiful.

you let yourself drown in the moment, drown in law's eyes and his love, as he leans back down to kiss you again and again and again.

april (law)

law watches as you let yourself fall back into the fluffy grass, lifting your gaze up to the blue sky. spring came early this year on your island. it's already warm outside with the sun casting a warm glow over your skin.

there's a soft thump when he goes to lie down next to you.

"we leave in an hour."

he feels you tenderly interlock your fingers with his. a moment passes before you respond.

"i'll miss you."

law turns is head to the side and finds you already looking at him. you're beautiful in the sunlight. it brings out your eyes. he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

"me too", he admits.

his heart flutters at the small smile you fail to hide at his confession, and he lets himself sink deeper into the grass, treasuring the memory of your face in this delicate moment.

you shuffle closer to him and he lets go of your hand to hold out his arm, so that you can lean your head on his shoulder. your hand finds his chest und you start drawing lazy circles onto his torso. law suppresses a content hum at the feeling.

carefully, he runs a hand through your hair and places a ghost of a kiss on the top of your head. he almost can't help it when the words slip out of his mouth.

"you know i love you, right?"

the circles on his chest stop and you shift even closer.

"yes", you confirm in a fragile whisper. "i love you too."

and so the two of you lie in the grass as law simply holds you, knowing that he'll have to let go again way too soon.

it's never enough. not a single day passes where law doesn't miss you. no matter the amount of chaos that constantly happens around him, no matter who he's fighting. he could be standing in the middle of a war and you would still be on his mind.

and law thinks to himself how cruel it is, to find love like this only to have to leave it behind. to have to keep you behind closed doors, to always keep his distance to ensure your safety. and he silently makes a promise to himself, that one day, after everything is over, he'll take you with him and you'll never have to be apart again.

You honestly have no idea how that happened.

“I’m telling you, twenty candles is enough!” Ikkaku says.

“I’m twenty-eight!” Penguin complains.

“Exactly. Twenty is close enough.”

“That isn’t how birthdays work!”

Across the table, Law sighs “Can we eat before they start another war?”

“Captain has spoken!” Bepo announces.

Everyone cheers.

You smile and Law notices.

He notices everything, like when you skip breakfast because you worked late with him in the office, or like when you steal all the spicy food before anyone else can, or like when you're tired and quietly leaves coffee next to your seat without saying a word.

He notices everything, except apparently the fact that you’re hopelessly in love with him. Which is honestly rude of him.

Dinner goes by in noise and laughter.

Someone starts a drinking game and that someone loses immediately.

It’s probably Sachi, or it’s definitely Sachi.

By the time dessert arrives, your cheeks already feel warm, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from the way Law is sitting next to you or maybe both.

Bepo walks in carrying the cake with enough pride to make it look like he baked it himself “Happy birthday, Penguin!”

Everyone cheers again.

Penguin actually wipes away a fake tear “My crew loves me.”

“Don’t get used to it.” someone says.

Bepo starts cutting the cake, then, naturally, he takes the first slice and walks toward Law “Captain gets the first piece!”

Law looks at the plate, then he takes it and immediately holds it out toward you “Here.”

Your brain stops working “...Me?”

“You like this flavor.”

Your hand reaches for the plate automatically and so your fingers brush his. Barely a tiny touch, but big enough to make your heart immediately try to escape your chest “T-Thanks.”

Law already looks away “Don't drop it.”

You stare at the cake and then at Law with a smile. Penguin squints at you saying in a mad whisper “It’s my birthday, I should get the first slice…”

Meanwhile Sachi squints at Law.

Ikkaku pinches the bridge of her nose.

Bepo smiles because Bepo believes in love.

You take a bite but you cannot taste anything because your soul has left your body.

Five minutes later you have another drink, then another and then another. Unfortunately alcohol doesn’t kill feelings. It only makes them louder.

Later that night, you stumble into your room and collapse dramatically onto your bed.

Ikkaku barely looks up from the magazine she's reading “You look terrible.”

“Thank you.”

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Thank you.”

“And regret.”

You sit up immediately “Ikkaku.”

“Hm?”

“He gave me the first slice of cake.”

She slowly lowers the magazine “Who?”

You stare at her and she stares back, both confused by the other.

“...Law.”

“Ah.”

“THE first slice.”

“You mentioned that.”

“Bepo gave it to him because he’s captain and then Law gave it to me.”

“Tragic.”

“Our hands touched.”

“Even more tragic.”

You point accusingly at her “You don't understand.”

“No, I understand perfectly.”

You stand up but immediately regret standing up, so you quietly sit back down “No, listen.”

“I’m listening.”

“Do you remember three months ago when I got sick?”

Ikkaku sighs “Probably.”

“He stayed in my room until my fever went down.”

“He’s a doctor.”

“He also made me tea.”

“Because he’s a doctor.”

“He adjusted my blanket.”

“Still sounds very doctor-like.”

You gasp “He looked worried!”

“Doctors usually prefer their patients alive, yes. Even better if it’s a Captain trying to make his crewmate stay alive.”

You throw a pillow at her but she catches it without looking.

“And last month!” you continue.

“Oh no.”

“When I fell asleep in the library…”

“You mean the office?”

“Whatever.”

“You drooled on one of his books.”

“That isn't the important part!”

“It should be.”

“The important part is that he put his coat over me!”

Ikkaku finally puts the magazine down “Yes.”

“His coat, Ikkaku.”

“I know what a coat is.”

“His coat smelled like him.”

“Please stop talking.”

“And then when I woke up he acted like nothing happened!”

“That sounds exactly like Captain.”

You flop dramatically back onto your bed “Why is he like this?”

“Because he’s Law.”

“Exactly!”

Ikkaku stares at the ceiling then she sighs… a long, tired sigh. The sigh of someone who has suffered for too long “Why don't you just confess?”

You sit up so fast you almost fall off the bed “What?!”

“Confess.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

You look at her with pure horror and maybe a little disgust “Have you lost your mind?”

Suddenly a small noise comes from outside the door, making you freeze “...Uh?”

Ikkaku raises an eyebrow “What?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Was someone spying on us?”

You stare at the door suspiciously.

Silence.

Ikkaku waves a hand “Forget that.”

“But…”

“If you confessed, I'd finally be free from listening to you fangirl every single night about our captain.”

You blink “I don’t fangirl every night.”

She gives you a look, making you look away and correct her, “Almost every night.”

“Exactly.” she points at you “Do you know how many times I've heard the sentence ‘Law looked at me today’?”

“That happened!”

“He's your captain! He has to look at you sometimes!”

“Not like that!”

“You mean with his eyes?”

You throw another pillow and this one hits her. Ikkaku continues anyway “Honestly, I don't really see it in him.”

You gasp dramatically “Excuse me?”

“It's true. I’m actually disgusted…” she shrugs “it would be like me fangirling over one of the other idiots to you. How would you feel?”

You immediately make a face “Absolutely not.”

“See?”

“That's disgusting.”

“Exactly!”

You sigh and then another sigh, then you fall backward onto your bed with all the sadness in the world “But Law is Law...”

Ikkaku looks over.

Your voice comes out quieter this time “I can't confess my feelings to our captain.”

You stare at the ceiling “That would just make things awkward.”

Outside the door… a certain captain stands completely still.

Law stares at the floor, expression unreadable.

You love him?

You?

No.

Impossible.

You're drunk.

You probably won't even remember this tomorrow.

He adjusts his hat and turns around, walking away.

Then “Captain!”

Law looks up.

Bepo jogs toward him down the hallway “I was looking everywhere for you!”

Law panics a bit and tries to steal a look at your door to see if you found out he was there all that time. As he sees the door stays closed he walks over to Bepo and asks “Why?”

“Penguin and Sachi are arguing about whether sea kings count as fish again.”

Law closes his eyes “Let’s go then.”

The sound of voices reaches your room and you go to the door and open it just in time to see Law and Bepo disappearing down the hallway.

Law doesn't look back and so the door closes.

Slowly, very slowly, you turn toward Ikkaku, your face goes pale “...Do you think he heard?”

Ikkaku stares at you, then at the door and then back at you “If he did, maybe he'll finally suffer with the rest of us.”

“IKKAKU!”

She bursts out laughing.

You, meanwhile, seriously consider moving to another submarine.

You don’t sleep at all that night…

You lie in bed, turn to one side, turn to the other side. Stare at the ceiling, stare at the wall and stare at Ikkaku, who somehow fell asleep three minutes after your crisis.

Rude.

Every time you close your eyes, your brain kindly replays the same sentence.

“I can't confess my feelings to our captain.”

Then another.

“Do you think he heard?”

Then you think about Law standing outside the room.

Law hearing everything.

Law knowing.

Law rejecting you.

Law transferring you to cleaning duty forever, or even worse, kicking you out the crew, because being near you is awkward now.

Your eyes snap open.

Nope… not sleeping tonight.

The next morning, you walk toward breakfast feeling like you're about to be executed.

Your stomach hurts, your head hurts and ypride hurts.

You enter the dining room carefully.

Penguin and Sachi are arguing.

Bepo is making tea.

Ikkaku is stealing food from Penguin's plate.

Everything looks normal.

You almost cry from relief.

Maybe he didn't hear, maybe you're safe… maybe—

“Morning.”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

Law stands beside you. Hat low over his eyes. Expression unreadable.

In his hand is a small bottle and he holds it toward you “For your headache.”

You blink “...Hangover medicine?”

“You drank half the party.”

“I was under emotional stress.”

“That's not a medical condition.”

You take the bottle and your fingers almost touch again.

Your heart still reacts anyway but you manage to say “Thanks, Captain.”

He nods once.

You move a little on the bench, making room beside you. His spot, the spot where he sits almost every morning. The spot everyone silently accepts belongs to him now.

You pat the empty space “There's room.”

For half a second, Law looks at the seat, then he looks away “I'm not hungry.”

And just like that he leaves.

You stare after him.

The room goes strangely quiet.

Penguin slowly looks at Sachi. Sachi slowly looks at Penguin.

Bepo looks worried.

Ikkaku looks like she's watching a ship sink.

“...Maybe he's sick.” Bepo says “Doctors get sick too.”

You force a smile “Yeah. Probably.”

But your stomach sinks, because Law never skips breakfast, especially not coffee… that man runs on coffee.

Later, you find him in the office, or at least you try to.

You knock on the door but there’s no answer.

You knock again… still nothing.

You carefully open the door and it’s empty.

You blink… that's strange. The office is usually where Law lives.

You close the door, turn around and nearly crash into Shachi.

“Captain was looking for you earlier.” Shachi says.

You brighten immediately “Really?”

“Yeah, but then he remembered he had paperwork in the engine room.”

You stare “...The engine room?”

“That's what he said.”

You stare harder “Captain hates paperwork and makes Bepo do it all.”

“That's also true.”

At lunch, things somehow get worse.

You sit down beside Bepo and the seat next to you stays empty until Law arrives.

You smile a little as he walks toward the table, toward you.

Then he sits two seats away, next to Penguin, who is now in between the two of you.

You blink, maybe he didn't notice the seat.

Yes. That must be it.

Halfway through lunch, Penguin stands up “I'm getting more juice.”

His seat becomes empty. Perfect, there’s no one between you and Law now.

Law immediately stands up “I'm getting coffee.”

He leaves before Penguin even returns.

You stare at his retreating back.

Bepo looks between the two of you nervously “Maybe Captain really is sick...”

“Maybe…” you say quietly.

The afternoon is worse… much worse, because now you're looking for it. Every time you enter a room, Law leaves a few minutes later. Every time you approach him, suddenly he remembers an important task.

Every time you start a conversation like, “Captain, can I ask you something?”

“Later.”

…

“Captain, have you seen my notes?”

“No.”

…

“Captain, are you busy?”

“Yes.”

You look around the completely empty room “Doing what?”

Law pauses “Thinking.”

Then he walks away.

…

By evening, you're going insane.

You find Ikkaku fixing equipment and you drop onto the seat beside her dramatically “He's avoiding me.”

“Mmhm.”

“No, seriously.”

“Mmhm.”

“Ikkaku!”

She sighs “Yes. He is.”

You stare “YOU SEE IT TOO?”

“The entire submarine sees it.”

Your soul leaves your body “Oh no…”

“Oh yes.”

You bury your face in your hands “He heard.”

“Probably.”

“He definitely heard.”

“Definitely.”

“I'm going to die.”

“Probably not.”

You dramatically put your hands over your face “I'll have to leave the crew and live on a small island somewhere.”

“That seems dramatic.”

“I'll change my name.”

“Even more dramatic.”

“I'll become a farmer.”

Ikkaku finally laughs “You don't even know how plants work.”

“I'll learn.”

Before she can answer, Penguin suddenly appears and points at you “There you are!”

You blink “...Me?”

“Captain wants to see you in his office.”

Everything stops… your brain stops, your heart stops, the submarine stops… probably not the submarine, but definitely everything else.

Slowly, very slowly, you look at him “...Did he say why?”

Penguin shrugs “Nope.”

You turn toward Ikkaku and she looks back at you.

“If I don't come back,” you say solemnly, “tell Bepo he can have my secret snacks.”

“You're going to an office, not an execution.”

“How do you know?”

You stand up, take one step and turn back around “Actually no, this feels exactly like an execution.”

And somewhere inside his office, Trafalgar Law is currently asking himself why avoiding you somehow hurts more than simply hearing the truth.

The walk to Law's office feels longer than usual. Possibly because your legs have forgotten how to work. Or because your brain keeps coming up with new horrible possibilities.

Maybe he wants to transfer you to another division or whatever he has. Maybe he wants to make things “professional”. Maybe he wants you off the submarine.

You stop in front of the office door and stare at it.

You consider running away, but unfortunately, you’re an adult.

You knock.

“Come in.”

You open the door.

Law sits behind his desk, almost suspiciously normal.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?”

“Close the door.”

Your soul leaves your body as you close the door.

Outside the office, Bepo appears around the corner. Then Penguin. Then Sachi. Then Ikkaku. Then another crew member. Then another. The entire hallway slowly fills with these criminals who apparently have nothing better to do.

“Move over.” Penguin whispers.

“You're standing on my foot!” Sachi whispers back.

“Shhh!” Bepo whispers loudly.

Inside the office, thankfully, neither of you hears them.

Law clears his throat and looks at a paper and then at another paper… just anywhere except at you.

“I need you to organize the medical inventory from the last island.”

You blink “...What?”

“Some supplies are missing from the records.” he grabs another paper “And the storage room needs a new system because Penguin somehow filed painkillers with cooking spices.”

Outside the door: “That happened one time!” Penguin whispers.

“Three times.” Ikkaku whispers back.

Law continues “And Bepo says some boxes were moved during cleaning, so I need someone with a functional brain to check everything again.”

You stare at him.

He keeps talking… words continue happening, and you’re listening to exactly none of it, because your brain catches on one single detail.

He’s not angry, he’s not firing you and he’s not even mentioning yesterday.

Your eyes widen “...Then you didn’t hear?”

Law stops talking “Hear what?”

You stare at him and he stares back.

Your brain immediately chooses denial “...I'm still in the crew?”

Law looks at you like you just spoke another language “What?”

“I'm not getting kicked out?”

Now he looks genuinely concerned “Why would I kick you out?”

The biggest sigh in human history leaves your body. You practically collapse into the chair in front of his desk.

“Oh...” you put a hand over your chest “That's such a relief.”

Law frowns “Relief from what?”

You lean back in the chair “I thought I made things awkward.”

Law's eyes narrow slightly “For what?”

You look at him, completely innocent and completely unaware of the disaster about to happen.

“For yesterday.”

Law freezes.

Oh no.

You know.

Of course you know.

Why else would you bring it up?

His brain starts working very fast and very badly.

He adjusts his hat and looks away “You were drunk.”

You blink “...What?”

“It's okay.” he crosses his arms “I know you didn't mean it.”

Now it's your turn to freeze “Didn't mean what?”

Law answers immediately “You... don't really love me.”

You jump to your feet “YOU ACTUALLY HEARD ME?!”

Law blinks “...You didn't know?”

“I THOUGHT SO BUT THEN I THOUGHT NOT!”

Outside the office door: Penguin silently grabs Sachi's arm. Sachi silently grabs Bepo's arm. Bepo silently looks like he's about to cry. Ikkaku closes her eyes.

Finally.

Finally.

Inside the office, disaster continues.

You don't even let Law answer, instead, you bow quickly, eyes fixed on the floor “I'm sorry!”

Law immediately looks alarmed “What?”

“I know it's not right for me to have feelings for my captain.”

“That's not—”

“But please don't kick me out of the crew!”

Law stares.

You keep going, faster and faster, like a train without brakes “It's all I have...”

Your hands tighten into fists “I'll try my best not to make things awkward for you.”

Law opens his mouth but you don’t see him and so, you continue “I will change my seat at meals!”

“You don't have to…”

“Actually, I'll eat in my room!”

Outside: “No!” Bepo whispers in horror.

“Shhh!” Penguin whispers.

“But that's sad!”

Inside: “I'll take orders from Bepo so we don't even have to talk at all!”

Law looks genuinely offended by that idea “Why would—”

“Just please...” your voice finally breaks “I need to stay here.”

Silence fills the room.

Law can’t see your face. Your head is bowed too low.

But then he sees a single tear falls to the floor and everything inside him stops immediately.

Without thinking, he steps closer.

You don't even notice… not until fingers gently touch your chin.

Your breath catches.

Law lifts your face carefully and slowly.

His eyes meet yours and then his thumb brushes under your eye, wiping away a tear.

“I thought you were too drunk to mean all that yesterday...”

His voice is quiet. His thumb brushes away another tear.

“That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

Your eyes widen.

Law looks away for a second, as if admitting that physically hurts him “Because if you didn’t mean it...”

He exhales slowly “Then I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by acting like I heard it.”

Outside the office door, the entire crew collectively stops breathing.

Inside the office, you just stare at him, because somehow, this conversation has become even more confusing.

“...You were avoiding me because you didn’t think I loved you?”

Law immediately regrets every decision that brought him to this moment “That isn’t what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“No.”

“Captain…”

“No.”

You blink and Law sighs.

Slowly, he looks back at you, his hand is still under your chin “I thought you were drunk.”

His voice is almost frustratingly calm “Because if you weren’t...”

He stops.

You wait.

Outside the office door, four pirates lean even closer.

“If you weren’t?” you ask quietly.

Law closes his eyes for a moment and then opens them again “Then it would mean the person I love actually loves me back.”

Silence.

Outside the office: Bepo covers his mouth. Penguin grabs Sachi’s shoulders. Sachi grabs Penguin’s shoulders. Ikkaku looks ready to collapse from relief.

Inside the office… you stare at Law and Law stares at you.

“...What?”

Law looks away immediately “Forget I said that.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Too late.”

“Captain!”

“Too late.”

“LAW!”

That makes him look back at you immediately.

Your eyes are still wet, but now you're smiling… a small smile. The kind that makes his heart do very inconvenient things.

“You love me?”

Law looks like he wants the floor to open and swallow him whole “Unfortunately.”

Outside the door, Ikkaku finally loses patience and she throws the door open “OH FOR GOD'S SAKE FINALLY!”

The entire crew falls into the office, literally.

Penguin lands on Sachi. Sachi lands on Bepo.

Bepo apologizes.

Law stares at the pile of pirates on his floor. You stare at them too.

“You were spying on us?!” you shout.

“YES!” Ikkaku shouts back.

She points dramatically at both of you “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS?”

Penguin raises a hand from the floor “Two years, three months and six days.”

Law slowly removes his hat and covers his face with it.

You, meanwhile, seriously consider going out and jumping into the ocean.

Penguin somehow ended up under a chair. Sachi is still holding Bepo's arm. Bepo looks emotional enough to cry.

Law looks emotional enough to commit murder.

You point accusingly at the spies “YOU WERE LISTENING THE WHOLE TIME?!”

“Yes!” Ikkaku replies immediately.

“ALL OF IT?!”

“Most of it.”

Penguin raises a hand “We missed the first thirty seconds because Sachi stepped on Bepo's foot.”

“You stepped on my foot!” Sachi protests.

“Sorry!” Bepo says automatically.

You stare at Ikkaku and she stares back. Then your eyes narrow “You ruined the moment!”

She points at herself “Me?!”

“Yes, you!”

“I ruined the moment?”

“You kicked down the door!”

“Because the two of you were taking forever!”

“We were having a conversation!”

“You call that a conversation?!” she starts counting on her fingers “You cried about getting kicked out.” another finger “Captain thought your confession wasn't real.” another finger “Then Captain confessed.” another finger “Then both of you stared at each other for twenty seconds without blinking!”

You cross your arms “You can't know that… and… that was an important twenty seconds.”

“That was the longest twenty seconds of my life!”

Penguin nods “Honestly, I thought one of you had died standing up.”

“I almost did.” Law mutters.

You ignore him, mostly because you're busy glaring at Ikkaku “You still ruined the moment.”

“And I'd do it again.”

“Traitor.”

“Drama queen.”

“Door breaker.”

“Captain simp.”

You gasp “Too far.”

“Not far enough.”

Law sighs and rubs his forehead. This is probably not how he imagined today going.

Suddenly Penguin stands up “You know what?”

Everyone looks at him.

He points dramatically at you and Law and says “I think our work here is done.”

Sachi nods “Agreed.”

Bepo nods even harder “Very agreed!”

Ikkaku looks between the two of you, then she shrugs “Fine.”

She points at you “But if you somehow manage to misunderstand each other again, I'm locking both of you in a storage room.”

“Noted.” Law says dryly.

Penguin walks out and Sachi follows. Bepo gives you a thumbs up and a very emotional smile.

Ikkaku stops at the door, looks at you two and then she grins “Try not to take another two years.”

“Get out.” Law says immediately.

She laughs and the door closes.

Now it’s just you and Law, but neither of you speaks for a moment.

Then Law sighs.

“Well...” he adjusts his hat slightly “That was awkward.”

You look at him and give him a small smile “Was it?”

Law raises an eyebrow and you take a step closer.

He watches you take another step closer and then another, until there’s barely any space left between you.

You have to look up to meet his eyes and your smile becomes a little mischievous “I meant every word I said yesterday.”

Law goes still but you continue anyway “Drunk or not.”

Your voice softens “Law...”

His name sounds different coming from you like that… softer.

“I love you so much that I was ready to pretend not to exist if it meant I could stay with you.”

For a second, he just looks at you, and then one hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushes lightly near your temple and then he kisses you slowly and softly.

You kiss him back immediately, without hesitation.

His hand stays on your cheek.

Yours find his shirt, holding onto it lightly.

The world becomes very quiet.

When he finally pulls back, he stays close enough that your foreheads almost touch.

His eyes are softer than you've ever seen them.

“You know,” he says quietly, “eating every meal in your room was never an option.”

You laugh softly “Really?”

“Really.”

His thumb brushes your cheek again “And taking orders through Bepo was a terrible plan.”

“I was panicking.”

“I noticed.”

You grin “You looked pretty panicked too.”

Law immediately looks offended “I was perfectly calm.”

You stare at him and he stares back.

You raise an eyebrow and he looks away first.

Victory.

Your smile grows “So...”

Law looks back at you “So?”

“Does this mean I get my seat back at meals?”

He actually rolls his eyes “That was always your seat.”

Your heart does a very embarrassing thing inside your chest.

You smile at him again, soft and honestly happy “Good.”

Outside the office door, because of course they’re still there… a muffled voice whispers “THEY KISSED!”

Another voice immediately answers “I TOLD YOU THEY WOULD KISS!”

Law closes his eyes.

You burst out laughing and Law opens his eyes again just to look at you being this happy.

Then you calm down and turn back to him “Oh. You have to repeat to me why you actually called me here… I fear I heard nothing of all you told me earlier.”

He sighs and says “Don’t worry, I’ll make Ikkaku do it.” 

You hear her behind the door but you don't care much, you just smile at Law and walk closer to hug him.

He smiles a bit and just lets you hug him while putting a hand on your waist to balance you.

You laughed softly, humoured by the idea. They’d already established you weren’t kidnapped by telling you enough things about your early life that you had to believe, somewhat, that the haze in your brain was blanketing out countless memories from the past years. Unless the infamous Heart Pirates were also the world’s best stalkers.

You rubbed your eyes and looked over his shoulder at the crew. They were familiar. Like people you’d met once and your brain could faintly make out their shapes.

The bear, though, was by far the current biggest redeeming factor of this ship. Submarine. Whatever it was. You remembered his name vaguely… Bepo, right. Him and his eternally bad habit of walking up from behind and looming above you like a predator about to drop his jaw to your head.

“Are you okay?” he asked, whispering though there was really no point in doing so. Voices bounced easily off the metal walls.

“Bepo,” you said. “I was remembering your name.”

His eyes sparkled immediately and he nodded fast enough that you worried his head might pop off his shoulders. “Yes! You remember that?”

“It’s coming back to me,” you said.

That was some of the best proof you’d had that this wasn’t a kidnapping disguised as a medical emergency. You knew some of their names though you didn’t remember how you’d learned them. Law was different though. You remembered him through wanted posters and rumours more than you did in this space.

Yet when you looked at him here, you found it hard to place him anywhere else.

He cleared his throat and you realised you’d been staring.

“You already know my name,” he said. “You knew it long before you joined us.”

“You’re quite infamous,” you agreed and you did remember how you’d thought of him and his terrifying power. But it wasn’t so scary anymore. “Now you’re telling me we know each other well?”

“We do.”

You waited for a more detailed answer but he gave you nothing so you looked toward the rest of the crew. They immediately dipped their heads, looking toward the ground or the ceiling in the most suspicious way imaginable.

Alright. You’d have to figure out what they were keeping to themselves at a different time.

“We know each other well and I’m apparently not kidnapped,” you reasoned. “And the last memory I can firmly grab at, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t inside a metal tube. So that means you’ve somehow convinced me to join a pirate crew?”

“I didn’t convince you of anything. You walked in and wouldn’t leave.”

Somebody in the crew snorted with laughter and you glanced over, smiling at the idea. It sounded right.

“But I don’t have a jumpsuit,” you reasoned, noting the dress code that was apparently enforced.

“Oh, that’s because it’s in the wash,” Bepo hurried to assure you. “It had a bunch of blood on it so we had to clean it.”

“Right,” you said slowly. “Because I got a head injury.”

Law’s attention flicked to your brow briefly. “You did. At least it occurred close enough that I could treat it. There could be worse places.”

You hummed. “I’m not doubting your skills but wouldn’t most doctors tell their patients important information?”

He didn’t flinch even as the rest of his crew began to quietly avert their eyes. You stared at him patiently, waiting for a response. The bare basics weren’t enough to explain the massive hole in your memories. You wanted to know in far greater detail.

The silence stretched before he shook his head.

“There’s a risk with information,” he said. “Your amnesia means your mind knows there are missing memories. If we fill in the gaps for you, you may start repeating what we tell you instead of recovering the memories yourself. I’m not risking that. A week, maybe more.”

You weren’t sure you appreciated that. “So, if you tell me about my memories, you think I’ll just accept them as fact.”

“I worry it could happen,” he acknowledged. “So, for now, it is best if you rest and regain them in your own time.”

You wanted to push for more. This wasn’t right. You knew the memories were floating just beyond your grasp but you had no way to reach for them unless somebody helped.

Then again, it wasn’t an ideal time. Your headache from earlier was beginning to return as whatever pain medication he’d given you began to wear off. It radiated through your brain in a steady throb and you lightly rubbed your temples.

“If you won’t give me memories, what about facts?” you asked. “Like how long I’ve been here for? How much time is even missing?”

Law didn’t seem willing to budge. “You’ll remember with time. For now, you’re struggling and walking around the ship was already against my recommendations. I think you should rest before we discuss it.”

You looked over his shoulder to the others. “Can I have a second opinion?”

“No.”

His stubbornness was stirring up faint feelings that curled around your chest. Something that complemented his manic reputation although, you could hardly find it in yourself to be nervous around a man whose hat resembled a seal’s pelt.

A brief memory surfaced of finding a vaguely similar mushroom while browsing a market. You remembered holding it up, voice distorted through time, and you saw his unamused expression faintly.

Even then, he seemed far less guarded than he was now.

“Alright,” you relented, satisfied to have retrieved one memory, useless though it may be. “I do want the headache to fade. I don’t think I remember where my bunk is.”

You looked toward the only other woman on the crew, hoping she might help but Law answered before you could think of it for too long.

“You’ll be remaining in the recovery bay for observation,” he said. “They’ll move what you need there.”

“Captain?” Bepo asked, his voice soft. “Wouldn’t she be more comfortable somewhere familiar?”

“Nowhere is familiar right now,” Law clarified. “That’s the problem.”

But he was wrong. Everything was familiar. Even the way he tilted his chin faintly when he spoke to somebody behind him was familiar. You just couldn’t place why it had become familiar in the first place.

What you did know was that you woke up the next day to a lot of stuff that didn’t really need to be in the recovery bay.

It wasn’t a complaint exactly because, if you needed anything, it was incredibly easy to find, but also, this felt like an excessive number of things to be brought through for a temporary stay. Far, far too many actually.

Every item you owned had been brought through and laid out on the surrounding berths so you didn’t have to look for it. If you did have a storage chest, it must have been emptied for everything to be dragged up here.

And yet…

Shachi and Penguin stepped in with another armful of clothes and you looked toward them. They both smiled as they laid it all out.

“Where are you getting all of this from?” you asked.

They froze, looking to each other for a second.

“Storage,” Shachi said.

At the same time, Penguin said, “Your room.”

You raised an eyebrow at them. “So, I have a room? I don’t stay with the rest of the crew?”

“Technically?” Shachi said slowly, already taking a few steps back.

They hurried out and you listened to their footsteps disappear down the corridor before you shook your head. They had always been such awful liars. You remembered briefly telling them as much in the past when you were walking around an island, trailing them slowly.

Another small memory of the crew and yet it answered nothing about why all your things were piled here.

You looked at the surrounding items before your gaze lingered suspiciously on a mug. For a second, you didn’t know what was wrong with it being there (nor why it annoyed you so much that it was) but then you remembered buying it. It had a twin.

A twin that was decidedly nowhere in this collection of things.

You considered it for a while before you swung your legs from the medical berth and rolled your shoulders. If they were running your stuff from somewhere, there would be a space missing your things.

And though you couldn’t remember it when thinking of it directly, your legs carried you through the Polar Tang with little thought.

Your steps echoed through the metal halls with a marked rhythm as you took your time looking through the rooms. You knew this submarine well. You loved walking through the submarine and knowing what room would come next.

Your fingers brushed along the cold walls, tracing the bolts in the metal as you glanced out the windows and into the churning ocean below.

You’d seen all kinds of things through this glass. All manner of aquatic life had swum by you before and you remembered how charmed you had been to watch them in the past; once you’d even seen a massive sea king disappear into the depths.

Your reflection caught your eye against the window.

You reached up to touch the bump and the stitches, trailing your fingers over the lines slowly. They ached, even now, but they annoyed you more than hurt.

Apparently, all your memories had leaked from your head through this one smack and that got under your skin far worse than any pain could have. Not to mention, you were partially sure it had been your fault to begin with.

If you remembered, and that was a stretch, you remembered a faint self-complaint of stupidity before the pain arrived.

You continued to walk, looking for something you couldn’t describe before you came across a door. It didn’t have a key and a lock but rather, a keypad, waiting for a code that you couldn’t remember the numbers of. And yet when you raised your hand, you pressed the numbers without thinking and the door slid open.

Law wasn’t in his office, but the space felt warmer than any of the rooms you’d passed before. The air held the faint smell of coffee, ink and antiseptic, and the chill that had followed you through the corridors seemed to stop at the door.

It was plain and sparsely decorated and yet you recognised it. Knew where you wanted to go and where you wanted to stand. You walked in slowly, carefully examining the room.

Sitting on his desk, filled with untouched coffee, was your mug’s twin.

The coffee looked cold, abandoned there some time ago. There was no steam left, and the bitter smell had gone flat. Next to it, there was a stain on the wood, spreading around a second coaster that held nothing.

You remembered the look he gave you after he realised the coffee mug had spilled but you couldn’t quite grasp what had happened before it.

You didn’t linger for long, stepping out of the office with the memories hanging over you as you made your way to the dining hall instead. This, at least, you could place concretely as the room where you’d first met the crew, with its large tables and metal furnishings. Although now, it seemed Law was sitting there instead.

He sat at one of the benches with papers and books around him as he paged through an unrecognisable medical journal.

This wasn’t where he’d normally do this but it was where he usually sat. You strolled closer, shoes clicking against the floor. And yet, instead of looking up, he just moved some papers away to clear a spot next to him.

You were already seated there before either of you realised the habit.

You looked over his shoulder at the study he was going through, saw a flash of your name written on a folder and tilted your head.

“I have a file?” you asked.

“Everybody has one,” he said, back straightening as he looked to you. “I thought your instructions were to rest.”

“I’m rested enough. Does the amnesia really need to be noted?”

“Yes.”

You were sitting very close when you thought about it but it didn’t feel natural to sit elsewhere. Though you wanted to complain about the time and how he was still working… you caught the grumble on your tongue for a second.

It wasn’t dinner yet. He could work here, if he wanted to.

He watched you for a moment more before he went back to the books, flipping through the pages, and you watched from his side, reading the paragraphs that caught your eye and wondering why your memories seemed to struggle so much with this.

“I think it should be put in as temporary amnesia,” you said.

Law flicked the page harder than needed. “Once you’ve regained your memories, I can change it,” he said. “Until then, it will remain as I’ve diagnosed.”

“I’m certain it’ll come back,” you said. “I made my way around the submarine with no problem and found my way here. I know what in my stuff is missing and where it probably is.”

“Do you remember the name of the submarine?”

You paused, thinking on it although it hung just beyond your reach. He nodded after an awkward length of time passed.

“There are still things missing.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be fully moved into the recovery bay?” you suggested. “My own bed might be enough to trigger memories.”

“No. It’s safer to have you somewhere you can be observed.”

“Why can’t you observe me where I usually sleep?”

He didn’t actually answer your question, seemingly invested in ignoring whatever truth was being held around your regular quarters. You were becoming increasingly suspicious that there was something else there.

Footsteps caused you to raise your head. Shachi and Penguin both smiled warmly when they saw your seat and you smiled in return, even knowing you were about to corner them.

“I was looking for you two,” you said. “Earlier, you brought me a mug and some part of my brain is itching to tell me it has a twin somewhere. What happened to it? Or have I forgotten breaking it.”

They both immediately froze.

“No,” Shachi said. “You didn’t break it. It’s just being washed.”

“Because it was in the storeroom,” Penguin said. “It’s dusty in there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But you said you got those things from my room.”

“It’s dusty in there too?” Shachi offered but his voice was far too meek to be believable.

Law didn’t raise his head but you heard the faintest sigh of disappointment under his breath. You almost laughed at it.

“You’re both awful liars,” you told them. “I’m glad to see that memory was right.”

“It’s because when they start talking, they don’t stop,” Law said. “And because they feel the need to tell you far too much.”

They both nodded, hurrying to their own table as they took their captain’s non-subtle hint to continue moving. You watched them go before looking down at where you were sitting. Your memories might be hazy but you could notice that you hadn’t been hurried along at all.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I just keep remembering little things about you,” you said. “Like I think I got you that pen.”

“Mm.”

“And I’m also wondering why you won’t just tell me everything. You’re my captain, right?”

“Right now, I’m your doctor. That means you follow my orders until your head heals. I want to be sure that your recovery occurs smoothly and without outside interference.”

“Why aren’t you in your office?” you asked. “All of this seems to belong there, right? You must have brought it all out.”

For a second, Law stopped turning the page and he breathed out slightly. There was a strange tremble to the sound; one that had you tilting your head to him.

Your body moved before you thought it through and you shifted your hand closer, resting it over his for a second. He didn’t move, hand adjusting under your own for a second as though he wanted to leave it there, before he stood. He picked up his work and headed for the door, gone before you could register how natural it felt to hold his hand.

The memories crept closer, flitting away when you grabbed for them but you had a feeling that if he’d stayed for a second longer…

He avoided you as the days passed, harder than ever, but you somehow kept finding him.

If you explored the ship, you’d figure out the best path to guess where he’d be and more and more fell into place as you did. Names and places. You called the ship the Polar Tang while you were chatting with Uni and you recalled the exact path to get from the medical bay to anywhere else.

You remembered Bepo’s favourite food after you remembered where the snacks were kept. The week ‘deadline’ crept closer and more of your memories returned, but you still felt you were missing something very important.

The problem was that the very important thing seemed to be what everybody had been banned from talking about at all. So, you had nothing to trigger it.

Law’s checkups were far too quick for a conversation. He didn’t even ask about what you’d managed to recall, fixating on the head wound, and then immediately leaving you to go and hide somewhere in the ship. And you felt pretty comfortable in calling it hiding because that was what it clearly was.

And whenever his fingers brushed your hairline, or gently pressed against your skin, you knew that you wanted to touch him.

The urge should have been ridiculous because your memories of his reputation to the public and what you knew of his more reserved nature contradicted it entirely. And yet whenever you reached for him, he never glared. He always simply created the distance himself.

And your memories desperately refused to let you just leave it that way. They screamed that there was a reason even if your brain struggled to grab why.

Six days in and you were done with it.

You grabbed Bepo first; snatched his enormous paw that was easily the size of your whole head and tugged him along with a telling fearlessness. Penguin and Ikkaku you dragged from the galley. You found Shachi near the boiler room, until you had every Heart Pirate you could find gathered in the dining hall and completely ignoring their duties.

Law might not allow you to force him into sharing information. But you knew that they were all already at the bursting point.

You planted your hands onto your hips. “I’ve remembered a lot over the past few days,” you said to them. “But seeing as our Captain has decided to be stubborn, I’m going to ask you to fill in the blanks.”

Their smiles faded immediately.

“Captain did say we’re not meant to tell you anything,” Bepo said softly.

“Right,” you agreed. “But I’m done hanging around waiting for things to click into place so he’s going to have to suck it up. Now, where was all my stuff before it was brought to the recovery bay?”

Penguin glanced toward Shachi and they both lowered their eyes quickly. You stared at them both, waiting for the weight of your glare to wear them down.

“Different places?” Penguin offered.

“No.”

“Captain’s quarters,” Shachi said. “Mostly. Some of the stuff really was in storage though! Uh, we just left that stuff there because you probably wouldn’t need it.”

You nodded and things began to click slightly into place. A system that you kept messing up whenever you reached for something. Because he was organised in a way you couldn’t easily predict so you’d given up trying.

A memory pushed through as you looked over where everything hung and felt a hand reaching past you for a shirt. The sound of his voice close to your ear as he told you that if you reorganised his wardrobe again, he would throw everything you owned into the ocean.

You’d laughed at him and purposefully moved his coat to your side.

“So, I stay in his room then,” you said. “Which is why he chose to keep me in the recovery bay?”

“Well yes…” Penguin said. “He is right though. It would be really weird to explain that to you if you had no memories! And then he wouldn’t sleep in there.”

“It’s also why he told us to bring out literally everything,” Uni explained. “Because he didn’t want you to ask and then have to tell you where something was.”

“Then why did you only bring me one of the mugs?”

“The other one’s Captain’s,” Penguin said.

Shachi nodded. “He’d already made coffee in it anyway. Just left it sitting on his desk.”

“Fine. Then why isn’t he in his office half the time?”

Ikkaku sighed and you looked to her to find her expression soft. “He is today. I think he’s been moving around because he’s avoiding it. There’s a lot of you in there.”

“A lot of me?”

Bepo nodded slightly. “You’re in there a lot,” he said. “And we took out most of what we could find but like, we can’t remove everything. That’s probably why he was working in laundry yesterday.”

You frowned. “That’s ridiculous. Not the memory part but like… he hates the sound of those machines.”

“Yeah but he’s also avoiding you so…”

“I know that. He could have just changed the code.”

Bepo’s eyes watered, his ears twitching slightly. “He could have but you love being in there. So, why would he want to stop you?”

The word triggered something in your chest before you could stop it. Like a small puzzle finally clicking into place. Because that had been the word you were missing.

The one that made you lean over Law’s desk and steal books from his hands when he hadn’t looked at you. The one that had him throw a coat over your shoulders while he worked, one hand resting against your back as you slipped toward sleep. The memories seeped back in slowly.

“Alright,” you said, as they still returned. “And this whole not telling me anything was because he was scared he was going to force me to remember it?”

“He didn’t say it exactly, but I think he was worried you’d feel obligated,” Ikkaku said. “That you would love him only because we said you should.”

Obligated into what? Into waking in a warm bed, your face pressed between his shoulder blades because he often turned away from you in the night?

You nodded and stepped away. “I love you all. You are all idiots.”

“Where are you going?” Shachi asked.

“To find him.”

You found him in his office this time, opened the door and stared for just a second until he looked up from his desk. Then you closed the door behind you and locked it.

“Okay,” you said and you walked without thinking around his desk. “I spoke to everybody.”

He leaned back in his chair, expression impassive. “Have you now?”

“They’ve done a very good job,” you acknowledged. “But I decided I was done waiting and demanded that they actually tell me where my clothing came from. And why it is that you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Old habits returning, I can see,” he said. “You’ve always bullied them.”

You smiled faintly and stepped around the desk, leaning against its side. “I know.”

You reached out slowly and took the hat from his head. He didn’t move away, allowing you to run your fingers over it as you looked down at him, warmth curling deeply in your chest as you did so.

“We share a room,” you said. “But you won’t tell me that.”

“I don’t want to implant things into your mind without them coming naturally. Otherwise, you might remain reliant on me for everything related to it.”

You moved against the desk and your leg brushed against his own. He didn’t move away. You’d done this countless times. The first time, he’d complained only briefly about it but then he came to accept it as somewhere you stood.

“See, the thing is, the actions are waking things up in my mind,” you said. “I remember them clearer when I do it. I know I want to touch you. I know I’ve done it before.”

“I’m not going to question every one of your actions and wonder whether it’s something you genuinely remember or something you think you should be doing.”

You bumped him with your knee. “Valiant, aren’t you?”

“Not at all. But this is important.”

You ran your fingers once more over the top of the hat before you moved it to the side, dropping it over a medical journal about amnesia. “Yet you’re leaning back in your seat because you already know where I’m moving.”

“I know where you would normally. Do you?”

You didn’t waste any time. You stepped closer, settling into his lap like you had a hundred times before. He didn’t stiffen but you felt him adjust, hands moving for a second as though to catch your waist.

“I do. I also know that you let me do this only when you aren’t busy. If you had something else to do, you wouldn’t have moved your chair back.”

“You sit where you want to. I’ve tried bringing other chairs in here but you care little about them.”

“Because I like to be here even if it gets in your way.”

He sighed softly and for a moment, there was silence as he looked up at you, expression lingering over your features. Then he raised a hand gently, brushed his fingers across the injury where it sat with an unreadable expression.

“It’s not very pretty,” you commented. “It’s going yellow.”

He scoffed. “Do you really think I care if a head injury looks pretty?”

“Does it look like it’s healing, at least?”

“Physically, it is,” he said. His fingers lingered there, thumb brushing gently over your eyebrow. “Do you remember the fight that caused it?”

“Not fully,” you admitted. “But I remember seeing your coat and I know there was the smell of something sweet in the air. Other than that, the fight itself is a bit of a blur.”

His jaw tightened, hand lowering until it hovered over your hip, suspended for a second too long before he gave in and just placed it there. It felt far more right than having him holding the chair, his palm warm against you.

“That’s unfortunate. I’d hoped you could tell me how it happened. I wasn’t watching you.”

You didn’t even remember the opponent but really, you didn’t care to. All you cared about was the fact that Law had spent a week silently carrying the knowledge that you liked to sit in his lap like this.

And that you didn’t remember that you enjoyed it. Something that was pulling tightly at your heart.

“I can guess,” you relented. “I probably just got too close and stopped watching. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

“No,” he said. “Sometimes I think you believe I’m capable of miracles for how often you get hurt.”

“But this is the worst it’s been?”

“Not physically. Your body recovered well from the other injuries.”

“I think it’s the worst,” you clarified. “Though the broken ribs were bad. Especially when we landed on that stupid island while I was still recovering and I sneezed for days on end. And you laughed at me for it.”

You caught the faintest curve of his lips before he got it back under control.

“I suppose there was also that time I almost drowned while ice fishing with Bepo,” you hummed. “But that was also more his fault. Do you have any idea how much he weighs?”

“He’s a mink,” Law said and the hand on your hip squeezed faintly. “It’s not like he’s heavy for his species. Although he took considerable offence to your expression when he said the number. Do you know he almost cried?”

“He did cry when he got me out of the water.”

“I know.”

“He thought you were going to kill him for letting me fall.”

Law inclined his head. “I considered it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did. Just briefly.”

You laughed softly and raised your hand to rest it against his cheek. He leaned faintly into the touch and you couldn’t help but smile. Those memories were returning faster than ever now. They clicked into place as you considered the man in front of you, who had spent an entire week carrying the memory of your relationship alone.

Your eyes watered and you raised a hand to wipe away the tears before they could fall. He beat you to it, fingers delicately sweeping them from your lashes.

Your breath hiccupped.

His touch lingered against your cheek as more tears began to fall and you tilted your head back slightly to breathe through them.

“This one is absolutely the worst,” you finally managed to say. “By far. And not even because it’s going to take me ages to get all my stuff back into our room. But because this past week has just been so stupidly lonely.”

“If I had been paying enough attention – ”

“Stop it,” you muttered before he could continue. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have been watching you.”

“Since when do you nanny me on a battlefield?”

You couldn’t stop crying. You fought to get rid of the tears to no avail, finally dropping your head onto his shoulder as you gave up controlling them. His arms immediately moved around you, drawing you closer.

“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered. “I planned to come in here and be all ‘oh, I love you so much’ and now I’m just crying.”

“You’re making a convincing case, if that helps.”

He sounded faintly amused but underneath, you could feel something raw in his voice. A relief you rarely got to hear from him. You stifled a small, overwhelmed hiccup against him and tried to figure out what emotion was even causing it.

It didn’t matter. You couldn’t stop them either way.

Minutes dragged by as he rubbed soothing circles against your back, your shoulders trembling hard beneath his touch. Then you sat up slowly, scrubbing away the tears as best you could and taking a deep breath. His eyes were warmer when he looked at you now, cautious but no longer completely guarded. For a second, something bright caught in them. Then Law blinked, and it was gone.

“I love you,” you said. “And I really need you to know that I love you.”

“I can see that,” he said.

You leaned in and kissed him. And for just a second, he went still. Then his hand slid to the back of your neck and he kissed you back, caution disappearing entirely.

He drew you closer until there was no space left between you, fingers curling into your hair as though he needed the proof of you there. The kiss was warm and firm and painfully familiar, unlocking fragments faster than you could follow them: his mouth against yours in dark corridors and in spare moments before duties.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead remained pressed against yours, his breath unsteady against your lips.

“At least I can officially update your records to say temporary amnesia now.”

You rolled your eyes. “I think you should remove it entirely. It isn’t going to happen again.”

“No. It’s not,” he agreed. “I’m getting you a helmet.”

“Absolutely not.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t look like he was joking.

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow