“You’re mad, aren’t you?”
And with that question, you have approximately a second to decide what your next course of action will be. Luffy’s partially descended down the ladder to the library, and while he keeps his distance across the room still, it’s only because he’s fairly confident that he’s right. You can either choose to lie, and say everything is okay, pretend you haven’t heard him at all, or tell him the truth, that you’re actually quite annoyed with him, enough so that you’ve decided to bury your head in a book until the feeling abates, but none of these options will avoid a conversation, now that he’s initiated one.
You’re just as bad a liar as him, and he’s as direct as you are indirect at times.
Choosing not to speak, you give him a glance, then look back to your book. He freezes for a moment, then decides to risk it anyway, making his way over and sitting beside you on the edge of the bench. You turn away slightly, and he frowns, and his hand hovers over your shoulder for a moment, before deciding to keep them at his sides.
“Luffy, does it matter? Do you want to read it?” you snap.
“You didn’t answer my first question.”
Back to this again. You turn your head again, a little thrown off when you realize he’s closer than you expected him to be, but give him a scowl.
Not really a lie, not really the truth.
He’s unfazed as usual, and instead of the childish pout he would give if the situation were lower in stakes, his mouth remains a thin, neutral line, as he watches you carefully, as if the words to decipher your current mix of emotions will be printed on your skin if he looks hard enough.
“It’ll be more if you don’t get away from me, Luffy.”
The neutral smile curves downwards just slightly. The two of you lock into what’s almost a staredown if a staredown could be one-sided, then too quick for you to perceive, your book is out of his hands and dropped on the other side of the room, several feet away.
You rise, but his other hand stops you gently.
“I’ll give it back to you, I promise.”
You tilt your head in defiance.
“If you don’t return my book right now, I’ll…” but you trail off, because Luffy is not going to budge at all - his face is unchanged from the slight concern he’s had since he’s come down to the library, and you feel a little silly pressing the issue. You deflate slightly, sitting back down, then pulling your knees to your chest.
He doesn’t say anything as you gather your thoughts, simply watching the way he usually does - people, insects, the clouds in the sky, the stretch of the sea, but you can see him lean just slightly inwards, as if he’s drawn to the settling storm in your head.
“Tell me,” he says, softly.
Your lower lip pulls between your teeth.
“Good. I’ll understand it.”
You blink, then unfortunately, you can’t help but laugh. But he isn’t smiling immediately, gaze still focused on you, and you almost feel a bit guilty for laughing but also for pressing the issue. You shift a bit in your seat, running a hand idly through your hair for a moment, then press your chin onto your knees. Luffy does keep his hands to himself, but he also crosses his legs, now balanced atop the bench, facing you.
“You’re…” you trail off, looking away at the ground, then back at him.
He blinks, then tilts his head slightly.
“Like touching you too much?”
He recognizes he’s trying very hard not to touch you right now, but it doesn’t seem to add up to him appropriately, and you shake your head.
Luffy pauses for a moment. He knows he’s grabby, he knows he likes to hug, he knows he doesn’t always know where his hands are, but why would you care if he’s not touching you when you don’t want to be touched?
“I…” he scratches his chin, then chooses to listen instead. It seems to have the opposite effect, because your nostrils flare, annoyed.
“Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?” you ask, now with the sensation of your face hovering over a hot stove.
“I mean… maybe?” Luffy asks. He’s keeping an internal record of who he may have accidentally dragged, pushed, hugged too tightly, or intentionally fought - he knows sometimes you have an issue with fighting - or if he’s not listened when you told him to stop touching something you were working on in the lab or-
“Stop touching other people so much, it’s kind of…” your voice trails off again.
Luffy’s mouth twists to the side.
“Are you going to finish your sentences?”
Your hand balls into a fist but you don’t even have the energy to tap him on the shoulder. You deflate further then look towards your book across the room.
“It’s not nothing because you’re sad and won’t finish your sentences,” he insists, and there’s a bit of an edge to his voice, although it reins in when you look at him again. And then you’re embarrassed that you’re so pitiful.
Jealousy is such an embarrassing feeling. Feels too immature in a world like this that’s in need of love, unfiltered, and feels too selfish when you’re with a man that cares about you as much as he does, but it’s just hard to swallow at times.
But Luffy won’t leave unless you talk - you’ve given the cold shoulder long enough, and even if he won’t understand, if he doesn’t hear something, you’ll end up in this situation again.
You take a deep breath, then close your eyes before speaking.
“If you’re that handsy and affectionate with everyone, it just makes it feel less special, you know?”
It stays quiet long enough that your eyes do open to check his expression, and as usual it’s hard to read.
For someone so kind, he’s often so, so hard to read.
“It’s not less special,” he says first, as you expected.
“I know,” you rebut quickly.
But tears prick at your eyes anyway. He’s not going to understand this no matter how hard you try, and it’s not something you should repeat anyway.
Luffy moves suddenly, pulling you into his arms tightly.
“I’m not trying to make you sad,” he says into your ear. You can feel your pulse quicken for a moment. As your bodies stay pressed close, he adds,
“It’s always different when it’s you, I promise.”
“Every time, it’s special when it’s you.”
You don’t know what else to add. You don’t want to limit the love he gives to others, you don’t want to make his smile less wide, and you can’t help the love he gets from others.
He laughs to himself for a moment, then adds.
“If you let me touch you ten times as much-”
You slap him on the shoulder gently.
He pulls apart from you, then kisses your forehead.
Another pause as you behold each other, and your unique affections.
“But if I start getting touchy, you have to promise to pull me away instead of getting mad.”
His hands close gently on your face, a small amount of pressure squishing your cheeks out.
“You know I can’t do that,” you laugh.
“Or frown really big, okay?”
“Luffy, that’s even more unreasonable.”
“I don’t care what you do, as long as you’re not sad, okay?”
His forehead presses gently against yours as he insists.
“Promise. I want you to feel like you’re special to me, because it’s true.”
You pull back just a little bit, appreciating the smile returned back to his face, the same one that makes you feel tender and loved, and yes, unique to you and your shared love.
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